


Castiel's Dragon

by Unforth



Series: Writing Prompt Wednesday [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Creature Dean, Docking, Dragon Dean, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Empathic Bonds, Legless Castiel, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Mute Dean, Mutual Masturbation, POV Castiel, POV Third Person Limited, Physical Disability, Protective Dean Winchester, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Unrealistic Recovery Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5956441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born without legs, Castiel was destined to be a dragon rider. He'd always dreamed of how it would be, and when the day for his pairing came, he knew he'd met the perfect dragon.</p><p>**NOTES**: Be aware:<br/>1. Underage tag is for a character under 18 masturbating and fantasizing. No intercourse happens until characters are of age.<br/>2. HEED THE TAGS. I'm not kidding about bestiality. Dean is a dragon, and dragons cannot become people, and Castiel totally wants to bang a dragon.<br/>3. That said, all sex is fully consensual. Dragons are fully sentient and as intelligent as humans and thus capable of giving informed consent for sexual acts.</p><p>*Still adding tags*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! It's been a while since I've posted anything new, not because I haven't been writing but because I have been focused on my Rare Pair Big Bang story, which is going to be around 100,000 words and will be coming out on May 15th. So, something to look forward to (One guess what my rare pair is...let's see...all of unforth's stories are either Destiel or Deanjimstiel, soooo...).
> 
> However, I needed a mental break on that and I got distracted by a Writing Prompt Wednesday idea from a couple years ago, and then the idea I thought would be 10,000 words at the most grew into this. Yeah, I know. At the time I'm writing this note I'm note quite done with the first draft but I'm close - it's going to be around 30,000 total. 
> 
> We all have guilty pleasure kinks, and bestiality (within certain parameters) is one of mine...up to now I've been a little shy about writing in some of my more "out there" kinks but I'm getting more open about stuff the more I write, so I suspect more of that stuff will find it's way into my work going forward. Anyway...yeah, if the idea of dragon sex bothers you this is probably not the story for you, but otherwise - hope you enjoy.
> 
> Oh, and a note on the tags that I didn't include in the story description: Dean is not responsible for the emotional manipulation. It'll all make sense, you'll see. :)
> 
> So, this is a Writing Prompt Wednesday story.
> 
>  
> 
> **What is Writing Prompt Wednesday?**
> 
>  
> 
> Writing Prompt Wednesday is a feature I run on my Tumblr. Followers, readers and friends suggest themes for AUs, and I come up with a list of prompts based on the suggested them. Then, based on those prompts, anyone who wants to join in writes up a short story (or a long story, I guess) and posts it to Tumblr (or AO3, or FF.net, or wherever) and tags it Writing Prompt Wednesday!  
> Last week's theme, for which this story was written, was _Differently Abled AUs_.
> 
> You can read more about Writing Prompt Wednesday and see this week's prompts [here](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/post/138118688883/writing-prompt-wednesday-differently-abled).  
> This week, I chose this prompt:  
>  _Only the chosen are born lacking legs, and since the day I was born I’ve been groomed for my future as a dragon rider, my body uniquely able to sit in the only type of harnesses that dragons are willing to wear. Today I came of age, so it’s time to get started on my actual training, and meet my dragon for the first time._

Sweat streaked down Castiel’s face, matted his hair to his head, stuck his loose linen tunic to his chest and back. Confidently, his hands grasped at the tree branch and supported his weight. Swinging himself forward, back, forward, to build up momentum, he threw his chest out and let go, reaching for the next branch several feet away. He caught it easily, pulled himself up, and shimmied towards the narrow end of the limb, fingers straining towards the leather tag that he’d placed there an hour before. A sharp wind threatened his balance, and he twisted his torso to better center his balance.

_Legs would be handy around now…_

He pushed the thought away. Everyone around him had legs and moments like this he was envious – having an additional limb or two to wrap around the thick branch would help his stability – but the desire didn’t last. He wouldn’t trade for the world and with all the training he’d done, he’d grown accustomed to the feeling of vertigo, the dizzy, stomach twisting sense that he was on the verge of falling. The thrill of danger gave him a high. None of his family or friends would ever understand that feeling. His fingers curled around the length of leather and he let out a triumphant cry, prizing it free. None of his family or friends would ever enjoy taking such chances.

“Carpet, to me!” he called towards the ground, where the carpet gifted him by Lord Joshua sprang to magical life, unrolled and soared up amidst the branches. It flew effortlessly, unthinkingly, bespelled to follow certain commands and gestures. Coming to rest beneath the branch on which Castiel perched, it awaited further orders, crimson weave decorated with an eye-twist paisley design in purples and blues.

None of his family or friends would ever get to ride a dragon.

“Why do you bother?” A voice reached him faintly. Rolling off the branch onto the carpet, Castiel positioned himself on his belly on the soft wool, hands grasping the fringed edge, and he silently directed the conveyance to hurtle towards the ground below. His younger sister Anna stood beside the thick trunk of the tree, watching him, eyes going wide as he didn’t slow; she screamed as he swept by her at break-neck speed. “Don’t _do_ that!” she shrieked to his back.

“Then don’t ask me silly questions,” he called over his shoulder. He slowed the carpet by adjusting his grip and circled lazily back around to float before her, holding himself up effortlessly with his elbows. “I need to be stronger.”

“Are you kidding?” she snorted, sweeping strands of red hair from her eyes. “Have you seen the riders who patrol the area? None of them are strong, they’re all—” She put on a slack-jawed expression, slouched her back and puffed out her belly, the imitation of a heavy-set person especially comical on her slim, scrawny form.

“Right – and that’s why they’re patrolling around here,” Castiel explained to her for at least the twentieth time. “I don’t want to be trapped on police duty. I want to travel and have adventures and stuff, and that means I have to be the best!”

“No!” To his shock, Anna lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, unphased by his sweaty, dirty skin. Uncertainly, he put an arm around her shoulder and patted her back. To his alarm, her narrow shoulders were shaking.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, hugging her closer.

“I don’t want you to go,” she mumbled. “I don’t want you to get hurt. If you were on patrol I could see you all the time, like we see Marv all the time.” Knowing she was upset, Castiel repressed an amused snort. Next time she complained that Marv was annoying and wouldn’t leave their mother alone, he’d remind her of this conversation.

 _If I get the chance, if we see him again before I leave_.

Sadness blanked his amusement. Strangely, he’d never before thought of things as she was describing. His whole life had been leading to his 15th birthday, when he’d be sent to Lawrence Citadel for his training, when he’d finally get to work with actual dragons, when he’d meet _his_ dragon and they’d prepare together to face the enemies of the kingdom. Now that it was only a couple weeks away, it felt unreal. Life was still so normal, there was no way that things could change forever so soon.

“I’ll come visit,” Castiel said soothingly. “I’ll visit all the time. My dragon will be able to fly, faster than the carpet, and we’ll both come. You’ll get to meet them and it’ll be just like always.”

“But what if you go to war and don’t come back?” she asked. Her tears added to the damp sweat spots around the neck of his shirt, and he held her closer, holding back tears of his own.

“I love you, Anna,” he promised.  “I’ll always come back.”

* * *

 

More dragons than Castiel could count soared overhead, wheeling and calling to each other, scales flashing all the shades of the rainbow in the bright sunlight. A dozen or more clustered in a field nearby, sprawling in the dazzling rays, lazing in the heat. Dragons weren’t cold blooded, but they nonetheless thrived in the heat and preferred hot climates to cold. Wild dragons were migratory, following summer, but those who had chosen to ally themselves with man tolerated winter when they had to. Castiel knew all about dragon biology and society and history, everything he’d been able to learn, but he’d only seen a handful of dragons in his entire life, those that patrolled the local circuits. All those he’d grown up around were older, past their prime, well suited to the benign problems that arose in the small towns and rural communities scattered over the western part of the kingdom where Castiel had grown up.

A blur waved in front of Castiel’s face and he went momentarily cross-eyed before he managed to focus on Commander Uriel’s hand. “You paying attention, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Castiel chirped. Uriel muttered something under his breath.

“Don’t lie, it never ends well,” said Uriel brusquely. Castiel flushed, feeling even more like a country bumpkin than he already did. There were only a couple hundred dragon riders in the entire kingdom, and maybe three hundred dragons available to be ridden. Only a handful of chosen children were born each year, and each started their training on the solstice or equinox closest to their birthday. Castiel happened to be born on the last day of spring, which meant that he reported for duty the day after his birthday, but he was the only new arrival that day. Three years he and the others would train. For the first year, they’d be paired a veteran dragon, but after they turned 16, they’d be paired with a youngling roughly the same age as themselves, a dragon who, like them, had spent a year training with a veteran rider. After that, new rider and new dragon would learn together. That was the part Castiel was most excited for, the time roughly a year from now when he’d meet _his_ dragon, the one he’d be paired with for the rest of his life.

_Unless something happens to one of us…unless one of us dies…_

Uriel led Castiel across the field, beneath the wheeling, playing dragons, and to a large stone-sided building, walls interrupted by regular square windows. Enormous barn doors stood open on one en, and through them Castiel could see shadows that seemed dark compared to the brilliance of the spring day. When they stepped within, Castiel stopped, eyes acclimating.

“This is the training barracks,” Uriel said. “For the first year, you’ll live here.” As Castiel’s vision cleared, he could see the interior of the building was one enormous space partitioned into large stalls. Noises filled the air – people talking, breathing, snoring, water running, and others that Castiel couldn’t place but would surely soon grow familiar. There was a smell, too, charcoal and hay and cooked meat and a faint undertone he thought might be waste but, thanks to how pristine the facility was, wasn’t rank or offensive. A dragon stuck its head out from a nearby stall, scales ice blue and edged in white, whiskers thick and drooping, deep purple eyes cloudy with cataracts. It blinked at them slowly and gave Uriel a predatory smile. “For the last time, I’m not giving you any mice, Elkins.” The dragon licked along thick lips with a long, pink tongue, skimming over frighteningly sharp teeth. Uriel tsked and ignored the dragon, so it turned its baleful gaze on Castiel instead. Embarrassed to be caught staring, Castiel jerked his gaze away. Desperate for anything to focus on other than the dragon, he noticed a narrow staircase beside each stall leading up to an open loft partitioned into stalls similar to those below. Some of the lofts were empty, but others contained simple furniture and personal affects, and in one a girl he thought a couple years older than him lounging on a bed reading a book. Unlike Uriel, the girl was obviously a rider – she didn’t have legs, either.

Down the long hallway, a groom walked alongside an orange dragon. A brief glance might give the idea that the lizard was horse-like. There were similarities, in the size of the dragon’s body, in the work as beasts of burden. Only a cursory inspection could sustain such an impression, though. Despite the surface similarities, there was a world of difference between the two. Physical differences were numerous: a long, thick tail tapering to a point, a sinuous neck supporting a large head peaked by scaled ears and draped with delicate whiskers, stubby, thick legs ending in predatory claws, and enormous wings tucked along the sides of the dragon’s body. More importantly were the differences in temperament and intellect. The groom didn’t _lead_ the dragon; instead, they strolled companionably side by side. There was no need for a halter or a leading rope, and the groom spoke as if to a friend, though the dragon couldn’t reply vocally. Dragons were only capable of empathic communication, were able to project their emotional state to riders and humans with whom they were compatible. Compatibility was completely individual; until a human and dragon interacted, there was no way to know if they’d be able to create an empathic bond. Thus far, Castiel had sensed nothing from the few dragons he’d met, which worried him though he tried not to let it.

_What if I can’t form a bond? What if there are no dragons who are able to communicate with me? Then what?_

Uriel exchanged a greeting with the groom and led Castiel to the far side of the stable. They stopped before an empty stall, above which a furnished loft looked undefinably vacant and unlived in.

“Singer’s out – he loves the sunshine – but you’ll be working with him and living here,” Uriel explained, gesturing up the stairs. Castiel steered his carpet to carry him up as Uriel led the way. “An instructor will be by in a couple hours to run through the basics of your training, such as when you’ll be starting and what will be expected of you. I’m sure Singer will take the time to introduce himself later as well. Enjoy the time off while you can, because the real work starts at dawn tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Uriel nodded acknowledgement, gestured towards the small living area and left without another word, boots clomping on wood.

Floating at the top of the staircase, Castiel took in his new room. Compared to how he’d lived most of his life, it was spacious. His family was well off and he’d prepared for training since childhood, pampered and indulged, but he’d still shared a room smaller than this with his brothers. There was a bed amply large enough for him, neatly made with off-white sheets and a thick, dark quilt, a desk with a rickety chair and a chest of drawers. Rolling onto his back and up onto his butt, he balanced on the slight stumps that were all he had by way of legs, the barest semblance of thighs, and grabbed his bag. He hadn’t brought much: what clothing he owned, a few personal affects, and a snap portrait that the family had taken last time they’d gone to fair. Tears filled his eyes to see Anna’s beaming face as she sat next to him on the carpet, his younger brothers goofing and grinning, his mother and father gazing lovingly at their children. He’d get leave after he finished his first year, after his initial training, but he’d no hope of seeing them before that. Though the journey to the Citadel was only a few hours by carpet, it was several days by wagon, more time and money his family would be able to spare. As he stowed his few things, he sighed and looked around the bare room, wondering what to do with himself during his limited hours of freedom. He was too excited to rest, too nervous to relax, too sad to feel enthusiastic. Glancing down the line of stalls, he noticed the girl down the way still reading but it seemed rude to interrupt. Finally, he decided to go outside and watch the dragons.

The day was spectacular, the sun warming his skin and cheering him despite his conflicting emotions. Dragons swooped and played overhead. While in flight, it was obvious how large their leathery wings were compared to their bodies. The skin that formed them were so thin that sunlight made the appendages appear to glow and cast multi-colored shadows on the ground beneath. Looking now, Castiel realized that many bore riders. The placement of the wings made it impossible for a human with legs to ride, hence why those born without the limbs were chosen for this professional. Complex harnesses attached at the dragons’ neck, forelegs and back legs and held the rider in place, bound tight around their hips and lower body, allowing free motion above the waist. The flying dragons bore signs of age, moving slowly, colorful scales tipped with frost, wings beating more slowly than a more youthful beast might, but the riders were on the opposite end of the spectrum, all young. Some clung to their dragons’ necks as if still frightened of being in the air.

A group of those who seemed most proficient to Castiel’s inexpert eye threw around a ball, trusting their harnesses to hold them in place as they ducked and swerved, moving in different directions from their dragons and yet somehow still in harmony. That was one of the things he’d never understood – how mount and rider communicated intent in the air. Were the dragon a horse, legs would be instrumental in the process. Unlike horses, dragons had thorough command of English, but Castiel had never seen evidence that words were necessary for the rider to indicate their intentions to their dragons, or for the dragon to warn the human of how they were going to move. What little he understood of the empathic connection between dragons and riders couldn’t explain it either; dragons could project their emotions, but humans couldn’t, and emotions couldn’t communicate simple concepts such as _turn left_ or _dive_. Watching them now, Castiel felt no closer to understanding. Some of the people did speak – calling to each other, calling to their mounts – but none of it suggested to him the kind of information that the dragons would need in order to know where to go. The game was fun to watch, though, despite the mystery.

The first rider, a gangly youth with long slim arms, a beaming smile and sandy brown hair, introduced himself minutes later, flying up and offering a hand to Castiel, naming himself Alfie and his dragon Ellen. There was no distinguishing a male dragon from a female dragon, though in general female dragons were smaller and fleeter. After Alfie, it was like the dam had broken and dragons clustered around him, their riders eager to say hello. Some seemed younger than he, though he knew all must be older since no one started training before they turned 15; others were older – a few much older, instructors who were keeping an eye on what Castiel had thought a game but he supposed must be a training exercise – but all the students were within a few years of his age. In minutes he was overwhelmed and claustrophobic; he’d spent a lot of his childhood in the air and he loved the freedom of taking to the open sky. On the ground, he was trapped because he couldn’t walk, trapped because even the wheeled chairs he’d heard some chosen riders used were of minimal use on the uneven fields of a farm, trapped because there was little he could do to aid his family. When he was on his carpet, he was like everyone else, as capable, as able to sow or reap, as able to travel. As faces and names swirled through his mind, he wished for even a minute to get his bearings and for space enough to catch his breath.

A low, rumbling roar cut through the hubbub and the gathered dragon riders made way for a large, barrel-chested dragon, its scales a dull, swampy green, its whiskers and eyes brown, its wings dappled forest green that looked interwoven with yellow and red and brown where veins and bones made a supporting lattive. Though the new arrival didn’t communicate in a way that Castiel could understand, the other dragons behaved with understanding and backed off. A barked command by one of the instructors called the students to heel and the training resumed, all save the new arrival taking to the air and leaving Castiel mercifully alone. The brown-eyed dragon watched Castiel closely and he gazed back, trying to suss meaning from the large, expressive eyes, the way the whiskers and ears quirked and relaxed, the lazy rise and fall of its wings. After a protracted moment, the beast gestured towards the ground with its head and flew towards the stable. Castiel followed close; they didn’t stop until the dragon alit before the loft and stall that Castiel had moved into earlier.

“Are you Singer?” he asked uncertainly. The dragon nodded once, and Castiel thought he sensed approval in the gesture, but told himself he was being ridiculous. _Unless...is that the empathy? Am I able to connect with him? It is “him,” right?_ “Hi, I’m Castiel. It’s nice to meet you.” The eyes blinked at him slowly, the head quirked to one side, and Castiel hadn’t the least clue what he was being told. “I, um, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now. I mean, I want to get to know you, but this is all so new. Honestly, I have about a million questions and I guess you can’t really answer those? Which is annoying because I’d rather ask you than an instructor. Is that weird? Maybe that’s weird. I don’t know why I feel that way.” Singer stared at him, his mouth agape to reveal a ring of off-white teeth, his whiskers twitching, a low sound humming in the dragon’s chest and a faint smell of flint in the air. Castiel’s nerves twanged. “Really, I just want to get started. I hate that we have a day off, it gives me time to worry that I’m going to mess up and I bet you have loads of experience and the last thing you want is to train a young idiot like me and…” The sound grew louder, staccato and broken. “You’re laughing at me,” Castiel said weakly. Singer’s mouth opened and a sound somewhere between a bark and caw escaped. “I sound like an idiot, don’t I.”

Singer laughed uproariously, but even as he did he nuzzled the side of Castiel’s head and a sense of well-being washed over him. Sure, this was new and scary, and after 15 years of build up Castiel was incredibly intimidated, but in that moment, he knew that everything was going to be fine.

* * *

_Scales were smooth under Castiel’s palms, against his bare skin, so perfectly satiny that the finest jeweler in the world would be jealous of their polish. Hot breath gusted over Castiel’s body, stirred his hair, shivered down his spine, filled his senses with fire and brimstone. Fingers frantic for purchase fumbled at a thick, powerful neck but he could find nothing to hold on to, forcing him to keep a slow steady pace even as desire urged him faster, even as his thoughts begged for more. There was so little friction over his cock he thought he’d lose his mind, but if he let go of the dragon’s neck he’d fall away, if he tried to go more quickly he’d tumble, if he tried to do anything other than pivot his hips slowly to rub himself against the dragon’s wonderful, soft underbelly, he’d find himself working at nothing but air. A moan escaped him at the sweet torture of it and he shook with the need to restrain himself._

_“Please,” he whimpered, not sure what he was begging for. “Oh, please, please, so much more, please...” The only answer was a burst of hot air, dry enough to bring tears to his eyes, and a pair of wings folded above him, cocooning him, protecting him, without offering him any of the support he needed to hold his position, without offering even the meagerest touch to his skin, his back, his aching cock. “Help me, please help me, it feels so good, please...”_

“Please,” he whispered, lips dry as they brushed against fine linen. The muscles of his stomach and back bunched and stretched as he rubbed against a blanket pulled tight across the cleft of his ass, the roughness of the fabric a far cry from the perfect slickness of imagined dragon scales. Mortified at the sounds leaking from him, at how incredibly hard he was, Castiel forced himself to stillness, breathing hard. The stable was never quiet, fortunately, and the rumble of a couple dozen sleeping dragons and almost as many sleeping humans was, he hoped, adequate to drown him out. At least, in the months he’d been there he’d never heard sign of anyone _else_ masturbating, and given how many fifteen and sixteen year olds lived there, it was inconceivable that it hadn’t _happened_. With that thought strengthening him, Castiel reached down, worked his hand amidst the blankets and ran a finger over his erection, shivering and biting his lip to keep quiet.

_Scales, whiskers, wings..._

_No. That’s not normal. I shouldn’t...curves, hips, breasts..._ Thoughts of women had never gotten Castiel hot, though he always started there. He tried to imagine running his hands through silken hair, tried to picture how soft flesh would feel under his fingers, chased the sound of a sultry voice moaning pleasure, but while it didn’t deaden his arousal, it did nothing to enhance it, either. He stroked and felt nothing beyond pure physical sensation, the wonder of his own fingers wrapped around his cock, the fascinating friction of skin on skin, the tantalizing need to chase more, always more. Gentle curves were replaced by stark lines, by a flat chest, a cock to match his, a deep voice that didn’t crack like his own still did sometimes, an adam’s apple that bobbed in time to frantic, impassioned breaths. That helped a little bit; cocks tempted him more than vaginas, gave him ideas about how good it’d feel to rub himself against someone who felt the same, and the idea of being filled as he knew men filled women tempted him in a more than he’d ever be able to confess. A vocal sigh leaked free and he clamped his mouth shut against further noises. God, he thought that would feel good, to have someone above him, thrusting into his body as Castiel thrust into his own hand.

 _So tight and so hot, hands slipping on scales_...

_No, no..._

_Two scales parted, a phallus peaked free, reddened and wet and ready. If he wanted, Castiel could reach out and touch it, touch both of them, wrap his hands around it and listen to the powerful beast grow wild with desire, slip his cock into the protective sheathe that housed the dragon’s large cock and thrust into that narrow, wet space to pleasure both of them..._

It would feel good, Castiel _knew_ it would feel so damn good, and though he knew it was wrong to think about it, wrong to want it, he couldn’t resist. Even before he’d had daily contact with dragons his thoughts had tended thus, and now it was almost inevitable that, when he was hot, he craved a fantasy beast to call his own. The image in his head wasn’t of any of the dragons he’d come to know, instead it was an amalgam of the few young dragons he’d met, powerful and in peak condition, so much strength contained in their sinuous bodies. He wondered why he fought his urges. One of his instructors had hinted at the profound bonds that sometimes formed between riders and mounts and he strongly suspected listening to her that she had carnal knowledge of what she spoke of. _If the dragon wanted to also, what would be wrong with it? It’s not like any dragon would permit such a thing unless they were interested as well...what if it were alright? What if I could have what I crave?_ Early release made Castiel’s grip wet and he pumped himself harder as he imagined it, how it would feel to touch a dragon’s thick cock, how it would taste if he wrapped his lips around it, how much it would stretch him open as he mounted – _truly_ mounted – and experienced what he yearned for.

With a broken sound he couldn’t stop, Castiel spilled over his hand, pleasure wiping out every thought and blanking his senses, making the night-black stable seem as bright as day for an instant. As the high wore off, he rolled onto his back, panting. He felt like he’d had a break through. He’d been raised to believe that as long as two people wanted to pursue pleasure together, there was nothing wrong with that, regardless of their ages, genders, or relative positions in life. Dragons were as intelligent as people; they weren’t beasts that could be taken advantage of. Any dragon in the stable could easily kill Castiel if he behaved in a way they felt inappropriate.

_But if the dragon wanted to...if he – yes, definitely he – wanted to make love, if he wanted to share intimacy with me...then there’d be nothing wrong with it, right?_

The concept was so novel and so incredibly, unbelievably appealing that Castiel hardly grew soft, his cock twitching in his come-coated hand. He pulled a second climax from himself imagining what that kind of acceptance might feel like, not just on a physical level but on an emotional one. He and Singer were somewhat sympathetic; when the dragon was happy, Castiel was happier, whereas when the dragon was angry or frustrated Castiel felt crushed. If he were bonded to a dragon that cared for him, if he shared a strong empathic connection with a dragon that loved him, it would surely feel incredible.

_If he would let me, whoever he is, I would ride him...if he would let me, maybe he would ride me as well..._

Castiel couldn’t think of anything – anyone – he wanted more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come. :) Hoping to get another chapter or two up tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I made up dragon biology to suit my own needs/desires. Just go with it. :)

The far side of the Citadel complex was terra incognito. The first year stables and fields were more like a retreat, almost a farm, designed for the comfort of the retired dragons who worked there helping the novice human riders. The rest of the Citadel bore little resemblance to such idyllic surroundings. It was a fortress, walls surrounding sturdy stone buildings, classrooms, barracks and training grounds. Castiel had seen it from the air many times, but students didn’t go there until they were entering the second year of their studies. He could scarce believe more than a year had passed since he’d left home. He didn’t feel any more ready today than he’d felt the first day he’d arrived.

Castiel sat on his carpet watching wide-eyed as a dozen young dragons assembled on the parade ground. Being on the carpet again felt weird. While he’d been in his initial training, more often than not he’d been harnessed. Even when he wasn’t, the novice rider’s stable complex was set up to be navigable entirely using upper body strength. Bars, ropes, and beams made a maze navigable arm over arm and students were expected to use those means unless they were injured. If they couldn’t get somewhere under their own power, they weren’t allowed to go there. More than one student scarce got a meal their first week at the school, but Castiel had never had that problem. Naomi, his teacher, had been impressed that from the beginning Castiel was strong enough. In the first of many letters he wrote to Anna, he’d needled her about how helpful all his advanced training had proved to be. Despite all the times she’d teased him, her reply had been so enthusiastic and supportive he’d wept with homesickness. He was stronger now, much stronger, especially his stomach and back. Now he could sit comfortably on his butt and stumps for endless hours, withstand the strain when Singer banked at high speed, and hold his position against inertia while doing complex tasks – preparing weapons, playing catch, manipulating signaling devices, using navigational instruments, even casting a couple basic spells that he’d been taught.

Going home for a week after six months of such work had been surreal. It didn’t feel like home any longer. There was no training, there were no instructors, everyone had legs, he couldn’t get around without his carpet, and weirdest of all, there were no dragons. After months surrounded by the sight, smell, sound, and feel of dragons, he was aware of their absence in so many ways, and he hated it. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to be home. Seeing his family again had been wonderful, he’d missed them all so much, and they had missed him. Anna had, as if by magic, transitioned from looking like a gangly girl to looking like a woman. His brothers had all grown, especially Inias, and his parents had invited over all their family friends to show off their dragon rider son. He’d been happy to be there for a week. But he was also happy that he wasn’t staying there. He belonged at the Citadel. He belonged with dragons.

The next time he went home, he’d be allowed to take his companion with him, if the dragon wanted.

That required that he have a dragon, though. Six students stood with Castiel, all those who had finished their year 1 training recently. Castiel had gotten to know them well as they’d trained together. All were within a few months of his age and he liked them all, though some better than others. He’d grown particularly close with Hannah and Alfie. Both shared his humble roots, both loved the hard work and strain, both loved dragons and saw them as equals, unlike some others – Crowley, for example, who treated their companions as dumb beasts despite all the evidence to the contrary. Crowley was the only one with them who was at his second choosing. He hadn’t found a dragon to bond with his first time at the choosing. The young dragons facing them were in the same situation as the humans – they’d completed a year of training and some were at the matching for the first time, others had likely been passed over before but were optimistic of finding someone to bond with this time.

Supervised by trainers but otherwise unled, the powerful, youthful group lined up facing Castiel and his classmates. There were more dragons than people – there always were, though both were rare – and the two groups eyed each other nervously. The process to prepare dragons and humans for this first meeting was, as far as Castiel understood it, very similar. Both came of age at 15 and left home to train, both spent the first year preparing with veterans, both got a short leave of absence, and then both came in the hopes of finding someone at this initial meeting with whom they were compatible. Thanks to his initial studies, Castiel now understood that part of the process as well as anyone did. No one knew _why_ some dragons could form empathic bonds with some riders, but when the connection was possible, it was instant. Each rider could potentially pair with many dragons, some with only a week bond, others overwhelmingly intense. The strength didn’t determine how effective dragon and rider would be together, or so said the instructors, but in practice riders were told to opt for the dragon with whom they felt the strongest initial connection. Once they were in training, once they were in combat, a rider’s ability to speak and a dragon’s ability to project their emotions became essential to working effectively in tandem. Castiel had gotten along well with Singer, had often had a sense of how the dragon had felt, and had grown depressingly familiar with the wry exasperation the old beast had experienced constantly while working together – and the affection that underlay that emotion. He’d miss Singer a lot. However, he hoped that amongst the dragons arrayed before him now, there would be one with whom he could share a deeper bond.

Every feature of the assembled dozen dragons spoke to youth and vitality. Their scales were vibrant, shimmering beautifully in the morning sunlight. Their eyes were clear, their whiskers thin and expressive, the flesh of their wings taut, and only one showed signs of paunch. Seven were females and five were males – Castiel had learned to tell the difference; men had a tell-tale bulge where the tail met their bodies, showing where their cocks were protectively nestled within them while not in use. Just thinking about that was enough to get Castiel’s heart racing, enough to cause his cock to twitch, and despite every injunction to himself to consider all of the dragon candidates he found himself ignoring the female dragons in favor of examining the male. All were spectacular, but one in particular stood out to him, a sleek dragon with an unusually long tail, deep blue scales that reflected black and green, and lively, intelligent eyes. He could hardly take his eyes off the beast as Uriel and a woman Castiel didn’t know explained how the bonding ceremony would proceed. Each group would be led through a series of exercises to show their capabilities and then there would be time to mingle and get to know each other. Distracted, Castiel missed whatever cued the dragons to take flight. Suddenly, they were in the air, wheeling and banking, the blue one soaring higher than any of the others, diving down in a showy display of strength. He obeyed the commands shouted by the trainers as if it were a choice instead of a requirement. His sinuous movements made his scales resemble the clearest, most perfect pond, ripples of dark and light glimmering over the surface. By comparison, the other dragons seemed drab.

The dragons landed, body language showing them shy, confident, proud, eager, and the blue was cocky, staring down the line of humans as if daring any of them to be worthy of him. It was the riders turn to show their abilities as best they could while on carpets instead of in harnesses. It hardly seemed fair that the dragons could themselves to such good effect while the humans were stuck doing things that they hadn’t truly trained for, but Castiel thought he still showed himself to good effect. His strength and quickness were his primary assets, in his opinion, and so he focused on displaying those – responding promptly to commands, completing maneuvers with his classmates that required he keep his balance using his core as he used his arms to throw a ball around, that kind of thing. There was no opportunity to see if the dragons – if _that_ dragon – was impressed, but he stole a glance over as the riders descended. The blue had locked bottomless dark eyes on Castiel. Embarrassed and far more turned on than he could admit even to himself, Castiel looked away.

“So, dragons, the names of the prospective riders are Hannah, Castiel, Samandriel...” Uriel listed off the names, all of the dragons watching with interest. When they were done, the dragon trainer listed off those present – “...Joanna, Eileen, Gordon, Dean...” Castiel stopped paying attention. The dragon that drew him so was named Gordon. Surely, attraction like this was what he was supposed to look for in a bond? Eagerness made waiting for the meet-and-greet to start nearly unbearable, but finally the instructors were done talking, the humans and the dragons were tentatively approaching each other, and it was all Castiel could do not to kick the carpet to high speeds and and close the space between himself and Gordon instantly. Castiel was not alone in that sentiment; the moment they were free to mingle, Gordon barreled across the courtyard, knocking another dragon – a lovely green male, Castiel noted idly, he thought it might be the one named Dean – aside in his haste. It was impossible not to smile as Gordon came to a halt before him and Castiel was immediately struck with a wash of emotion beyond anything he’d ever felt while interacting with Singer: hunger, possessiveness, dominance, all wrapped up in excitement and interest. Gordon wanted him so powerfully it was dizzying. Any lingering thought Castiel had nursed of at least interacting with the other dragons before making his decision vanished. All Castiel had ever wanted was a dragon who wanted him, a dragon whom he wanted, and it was obvious that Gordon was _perfect_.

* * *

Castiel was so tired. His body hurt everywhere. All he wanted to do was sleep but that wasn’t an option. It was only lunch, only a wonderful 45 minutes to himself, 45 minutes not strapped into a harness, 45 minutes without Gordon’s expectations hanging oppressively over him. Castiel had known that training with young dragons would be different than working with the retirees but he’d had no idea how exhausting it would be. After a month he’d considered quitting, and now three months in he couldn’t say what got him out of bed every morning beyond the inconceivability of doing anything else. Nothing he did was ever good enough, and the further into training they got the further he fell behind his classmates. Even Crowley was doing better with him, though he and his dragon Richie squabbled constantly.

Everyone else was at the meal, the dragons eating from individual troughs filled with meat, the humans sitting at bench tables, the six other students in Castiel’s year all excelling. In the face of his failures, the thought of food was nauseating. He’d blown it again that day, dropped all the ammunition he was supposed to be loading, lost his balance so badly that Gordon had nearly collided with a tree attempting to keep him from falling. Understandably, Gordon had been furious, and the force of his anger still pulsed through Castiel even though they were nowhere near each other. Maybe he should talk to Commandant Zachariah and request remedial training. Maybe he should give up and go home. Sometimes, people did wash out of the program. Dragons were too rare to be wasted on losers like him, and Gordon, magnificent creature that he was, deserved a rider who was as good as he was.

The only thing more agonizing than the thought of staying and bearing another year, another month, another week, another _hour_ of how he felt when he was with the dragon, the _only thing worse_ that he could imagine, was going home. If he left now, he’d never get to interact with another dragon. He’d return to the farm and help sow and reap and maybe, if he was extremely lucky, Marv and his dragon would visit from time to time and remind Castiel of everything he wasn’t allowed to have. At least when he was home he felt useful. At least when he was there he felt like he was able to do something – anything – right. The constant reminders of how inadequate he was were agony.

Castiel couldn’t stop his tears; he buried his face in the crook of his elbow and sobbed. At least the stables were empty, at least there was no one to hear, at least he could be alone for some short time each day. Of course, he’d make a sight when they returned to the training compound after lunch and then everyone would know and Gordon would be disappointed in him and the afternoon would be even worse than the morning had been.

_If I weren’t so weak...if I weren’t such a failure...if only I was actually good enough...it wouldn’t be like this._

_I should accept the truth and go home._

Something dry and smooth brushed against his elbow and he started, scrubbing at his eyes and face in a futile effort to hide his red-streaked cheeks. With the brush came a burst of care and concern, naming whoever was checking on him a dragon. With a flare of hope, Castiel thought Gordon had come to check on him, but when Castiel moved his hands from his face he was greeted not by the hulking blue but by a sleek green dragon, faintly familiar, definitely not one of his classmate’s mounts. The young dragons who hadn’t been selected when Castiel’s class came in were still around, living in stalls at the far end of the barracks. Gordon had been like that. He’d lived in this stable for over a year before he’d found in Castiel a compatible rider. Castiel didn’t know how long this dragon had gone without being chosen, but Castiel saw him around from time to time, working with an old trainer, preparing for the next round of selection. In the dim light of this stables its scales were deep green, evoking an image of an ancient, forgotten forest, and its eyes were nearly black except where they were flecked in gold that caught the light and glimmered like gilding. There was something undefinably sad about its face, or perhaps Castiel was picking up an empathetic projection of sadness, he couldn’t be sure. Combing through neglected memories of his selection day, when all his focus had been on Gordon and he’d been sure that his training would continue as wonderfully as it had started, Castiel tried to remember this dragon’s name.

_A male dragon who was next to Gordon. He’d started to approach me but Gordon cut him off and I didn’t end up meeting him…his name was…_

“…you’re…um…was it Dean?” Castiel asked hesitantly. The dragon nodded and the worry he oozed was tinged with happiness. “I’m Castiel.” Dean nodded again, unsurprised. He’d remembered Castiel’s name. Castiel was amazed how much nuance he picked up from Dean, as much as he sensed from Gordon – maybe even more. A surprisingly soft nose nuzzled at Castiel’s elbow and, even as upset as he was, he smiled at the kind gesture. “It’s alright – I’m fine.”

Dean nuzzled harder, head butting Castiel’s chest, and Castiel laughed, reminded powerfully of an oversized puppy. Repeating the movement, Dean huffed hot breath over Castiel’s skin. It felt nice, but instead of comforting him further Castiel was suddenly, powerfully reminded of all the reasons he was upset: how little he deserved such kindness, how inadequate he was as a dragon rider, what a failure he was destined to be. He choked on a laugh as tears fell afresh, trying to turn away, but Dean kept at him, rubbing his head against Castiel’s chest and overflowing with reassurance and concern. Overwhelmed, by Dean’s kindness, by the power of the emotions Dean projected, by the pain that he felt, Castiel threw his arms around the dragon’s neck, pressed his face in supple scales and cried and cried. Dean gave no sign that the outburst troubled him. Silent comfort buttressed Castiel, a pervasive sense that it was alright that he was upset, that he didn’t need to hide, that if he needed to cry he should cry. It was so far from the rebuke he’d have expected were Gordon there instead that Castiel cried even harder, yet by the time the bell tolled warning that class would recommence in five minutes, his eyes were dry and he felt ineffably better than he had earlier, better than he had in weeks. Embarrassed, he used an arm to wipe the wet spot he’d left on Dean’s scales. Their eyes met, Dean’s burnished to a gorgeous bronze shine when they caught the light, and Castiel smiled shyly.

_He’s beautiful. How did I never notice him before?_

“Thank you, Dean. I feel a lot better.” Castiel pet down Dean’s strong neck, adored the warmth of the scales under his palm. “I, um…I’ll see you around again…I hope? If you want?” Approval so strong it took Castiel’s breath away greeted his uncertainty and he laughed. He was still grinning when he made it back to class, and even Gordon’s anger when Castiel flubbed a diving catch wasn’t enough to bring him down. _Someone_ didn’t think Castiel incapable. _Someone_ didn’t think he was a disaster. Dean thought Castiel was good enough. That was all he’d needed to hear.

* * *

The two hours between dinner and curfew were always quiet. Theoretically, the students could socialize with each other, but in practice no one did so. Their days were exhausting and they spent so much time together as it was. There was never enough time to study. Lighting the lantern in his room, Castiel went to the shelf of books over his desk and pulled out _Intermediate Maneuvers for Dragon Regiments_. They’d be performing a review before the entire upper staff of the school in less than a week. Even Commandant Zachariah would be there. Castiel was woefully underprepared. The book fell open to the marker Castiel had left when he stopped studying the previous evening and he resumed from there, staring at drawers of dragons flying in formation but taking in nothing.

The floor that separated Castiel’s room from Gordon’s stall was a thin barrier. It did little to dull the sounds that Gordon made, his snores and snorts and occasional roars, and it did even less to dampen the constant flood of emotions that inundated Castiel from his dragon companion. Most nights, that was mildly troubling, but tonight it was unbearable. Gordon was in a fury, pacing his room, stomping so resoundingly that every footfall shook Castiel’s bed. His ire cast a pall over Castiel’s entire room, his entire existence. For once, it wasn’t Castiel’s fault. Gordon might not agree with that, but Castiel was sure. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault that Gordon had flown faster than the other dragons in the training squad, outpaced them and left them behind even though they were supposed to be maintaining formation for drill. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault that Hannah had derided Gordon for being an arrogant show off. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault that Jo, Hannah’s dragon, had taken offense at Gordon’s aggressive response to Hannah’s words, nor that when the instructors finally broke up the fight, they saw clearly that Gordon had instigated the fight and had grounded him for the rest of the day. It wasn’t Castiel’s fault that Gordon couldn’t control his temper and had gotten them both in trouble as a result.

Gordon thought it was Castiel’s fault, and had been an unbearable grump for hours since.

Less than ten minutes after opening his book, Castiel closed it with a sigh. It was impossible to concentrate. He thought about giving up and going to sleep early, but as tired as he was he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep until Gordon calmed down. What he needed was a quiet place where he could focus on his book. There wasn’t a study room, though, and the dining hall closed after the students finished cleaning up from dinner.

A memory of calm washed over him. It had been a week since Dean had comforted him, a week since he’d felt the contrast between being around a dragon who projected anger and dominance all the time and being around a dragon who was content and caring. Studying around Dean would be wonderful, that sense of well-being would help Castiel focus instead of distracting him constantly like Gordon’s aggression did. Castiel hadn’t had the nerve to approach Dean since that day, too embarrassed at his own behavior, but he was grateful and if nothing else he wanted the chance to thank Dean. And maybe, if he asked, Dean wouldn’t mind Castiel studying in his stall.

Resolving to act before he could convince himself it was an imposition, Castiel threw his book into a satchel, slung the bag over his shoulder, and used the bars along the ceiling and the wall to haul himself down the stairs, along the stable hallway, and through the complex to where the unassigned dragons lived. The next pairing ceremony was the next week, and Castiel was sure that after that, Dean would be bonded to a partner and would no longer be interested in being Castiel’s friend, but even a few evenings in the dragon’s company would be nice and would buttress Castiel with that precious feeling of acceptance that he never felt when he was with Gordon.

It took examining three stall doors before Castiel found Dean’s. Quashing his nerves, he knocked. The door swung out and open a moment later, room within dimmer than the hallway, and Dean stuck his head out, uncertainty giving way to welcome and pleasure and curiosity when he saw Castiel.

“Hi, Dean,” Castiel said, looking away as he realized how presumptuous his presence there was. Dean’s curiosity intensified. “I, um, never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you.” Castiel started to turn away, but a snort caught his attention and he turned back to see Dean shaking his head an emphatic no. “I don’t understand…I didn’t bother you?” Dean nodded and stepped aside from the doorway, an obvious gesture of invitation. Swinging himself forward, Castiel used handholds to get into the room and then stopped, unsure how to proceed. In his own room, he could drop down onto a bed; in Gordon’s stall, he could land on the dragon’s back, but Dean’s room was large and fairly empty. There was a trough for food, a pile of hay, and a large, blazing fireplace that made the space warmer than many other rooms. A scratching post, scored by deep claw marks, was mounted on one wall, and there was a lectern with an enormous book on it, opened to a page near the middle with a lamp mounted overhead casting golden light over the pages. Nothing presented a safe place for Castiel to lower himself. Before he could ask, Dean seemed to sense the problem; he closed the door and moved to stand under Castiel, waiting patiently. After a moment’s hesitation, Castiel dropped down and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. Embarrassed by the proximity when they weren’t paired and were still virtually strangers, Castiel slid down to the ground and pulled himself into a comfortable position leaning against the nearest wall. Dean settled on his belly before Castiel, watching expectantly.

“I need to study, but I couldn’t concentrate,” Castiel explained, keenly aware of absurdity of his presence there. “I don’t know why but I thought maybe it would be okay if I studied here instead?” Dean nodded and continued to watch him intently. Grabbing the book, Castiel opened to his place and tried to read, but Dean’s concentration was too distracting, Dean’s curiosity too intense. “Do you want to study, too?” Dean burst with enthusiastic agreement.

“Okay – so I’m learning about group maneuvers by dragon formations of 50 riders or more, and…”

Castiel stayed until curfew. Dean hadn’t studied the intermediate maneuvers yet, since he didn’t have a rider, and he was an eager student. Castiel would never have imagined how much better he would learn when he was also teaching, and how much more fun it would be than studying alone. By the time he left, Castiel felt ready for the Review, and he and Dean had made plans to study together the next night, too.

_I wish Gordon was interested in studying like this._

_I’m glad that Dean is._

* * *

“The lateral clasp goes here,” Castiel ran his hands over the buckle that he’d placed at Dean’s side, “and the dorsal clasps should rest between the shoulder blades,” he checked how tightly the straps rested around Dean’s neck, “and where the tail meets your haunches.” Castiel was more gentle when he checked that one; male dragons could be sensitive around their backsides, only a relatively thin layer of skin and fat sheltering containing their cocks. Dean’s caused a bulge that left how large he must be to Castiel’s imagination and his hottest dreams. Despite Castiel’s care, Dean shivered beneath him but gave no indication that Castiel should behave differently. A thrill ran down Castiel’s spine, blood surging through him, awakening him. The last buckle was too loose, so Castiel adjusted it with a show of professionalism and forbade himself from stroking Dean’s back again. “Did I set the harness up correctly?”

Dean nodded though his thoughts showed reservations. His tail tested the tautness of the harness at several places. He continued to nod approval until he reached the one that looped under his left wing. Castiel went to look and Dean tugged at it, stretched out his wing and flapped it slowly. The problem was obvious as soon as Dean had his wing at the lowest position – the strap was too tight, digging in at the front and back joint.

“Got it,” Castiel nodded, extremely relieved. If he’d made a mistake like that with Gordon, Gordon would have been upset – understandably, since with Gordon sometimes there wasn’t time to check everything before taking flight and if the straps were too tight, Gordon could get hurt badly. That was why Castiel had asked Dean to practice with him instead.

_Yes, definitely, the only reason I asked Dean to help me with this. It’s not because he’s beautiful or kind or seems to enjoy spending time with me. It’s not because the prospect of studying with Gordon frightens me, the prospect of being the target of Gordon’s temper leaves me sick at night. Gordon has high expectations, and he should, he’s a great dragon, and so I have to be a great rider to prove myself worthy of him._

Castiel adjusted the straps at both wings and tried to quiet his thoughts. When he was done, Dean tested them each with his tail again and, nodding, projected his approval to Castiel. Castiel heaved a deflating sigh, basking in the feeling of having done it right. Even so…

“Would you mind if we did it again?” he asked timidly. Dean turned to face him and Castiel flinched, afraid of the anger his request might prompt. Castiel only had a couple hours of free time each night and he usually spent them studying and practicing. Of late, he’d frequently enlisted Dean’s help and no matter how often Dean made it clear he didn’t mind, Castiel still felt he was imposing. There was no anger in Dean’s reply, he nodded and lifted his neck so that Castiel could maneuver his carpet around and undo the sequence of buckles that secured the harness to Dean’s chest.

When Castiel returned to Dean’s haunches, he allowed himself another caress along Dean’s sensitive backside. He knew it was wrong, knew it was inappropriate, knew it was a terrible thing to touch Dean so without permission, but he couldn’t resist. He relished Dean’s reaction – the way the dragon shivered and tensed, the way pleasure seeped in to the constant stream of Dean’s emotions that Castiel could sense. Dean would have been right to rebuke Castiel, but he didn’t, didn’t do anything to suggest that Castiel should stop. Swallowing hard, Castiel froze with his hand hovering over the same spot. If he did caress Dean again, would Dean stop him? Or would Dean encourage him? His scales shimmered so beautifully in the dim lantern light, he was so responsive to Castiel’s touch…under the pretext of adjusting the straps, Castiel rubbed his palm over the same spot, pressing down as he tightened the buckle by one belt hole. Dean’s head dropped, his wings relaxed to droop at his sides, a low noise rasped through his teeth, and a glow of warmth and pleasure burst into Dean’s relaxed, happy emotions. Castiel jerked his hand away as if the heat of Dean’s body burned.

_Shouldn’t have done that, shouldn’t have, but if he wants it too…no, I haven’t spoken to him, haven’t asked, and I won’t, it wouldn’t be appropriate, he’s not my dragon, he’s just my friend._

No amount of reprimanding himself stopped the stirring in Castiel’s shorts. Mortified, Castiel made himself stop, made himself finish readjusting the harness in silence. He didn’t trust himself to speak, hardly trusted himself to touch the magnificent beast – the magnificent _man_ – before him. The moment passed, the tension faded, and when Castiel felt he could speak calmly, he returned to focus on the task at hand. The faint disappointment he thought he sensed tinging Dean’s thoughts was definitely in Castiel’s imagination. If Dean wanted Castiel, he could easily express so, and besides, the disappointment was incongruous with Dean’s predominant embarrassment. Castiel’s actions had caused Dean shame, not enjoyment.

Much later that night, after curfew, Castiel lay in bed, the sound of Gordon snoring in the stable beneath him loud enough to keep him awake, and he let his thoughts return to Dean. He didn’t try to resist it; remembering every nuance was too delicious, too arousing. Only a pillow over his mouth kept him from crying out as he stroked himself to climax picturing Dean writhing in bliss under Castiel’s hands.

It was days before Castiel could look at his friend again without blushing.

It was weeks before Castiel stopped getting off nightly to the same fantasy.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I've added a tag for Graphic Depictions of Violence, pertinent to this chapter.

 

Nervous, Castiel leaned down and reached around Gordon’s wing to knock on the door to the house he’d grown up in. He felt absurd, dwarfing the entryway while he was still mounted and harnessed, but though he knew it was a ridiculous affectation, he wanted his family to see him mounted on his dragon. Gordon thought he was being juvenile, but nonetheless Castiel went for it, used his hips and the tethers of his harness to indicate to Gordon that they should step back and stand before the house. An exasperated snort greeted the suggestion but Gordon obeyed, condescension coming through their bond.

The door opened a crack, a glimpse of red hair just visible, and then it flew open and Anna was out the door and jumping for joy before him, looking wide-eyed at Castiel and Gordon in turn, crowing her delight. “Cassie, Cassie, you’re back! Is this Gordon? Oh my stars you look wonderful up there, look how tall and strong you are! And you look older – and you haven’t _shaved_ , I can’t believe you need to shave, and…and…and…come down here so I can hug you!” Leaning down, trusting the harness to keep him from falling, Castiel slid nearly all the way from Gordon’s back so he could hug his sister. As he did, Gordon shook his wings out and knocked Castiel so hard into his sister that she grunted and exclaimed in worried surprise. Immediately, Gordon’s disdain came through their connection.

_He did that on purpose just to dislodge me._

_No, no, that’s not fair, he’s just tired after the long flight and he thinks I’m being silly, insisting on greeting them while harnessed. He’s right, I’m such a child, I should get down._

“Everyone, come see!” Anna called shrilly back to the house, giving Castiel a shove to help him get back up on Gordon’s back again. “It’s Cassie, Cassie’s here!” Footsteps on wood sounded loudly from within and a moment later his siblings poured out, Gabriel and Inias, Rachel and Balthazar, followed by his father and mother. Admiration and approval filled the air, and Castiel sat tall and puffed his chest out proudly, ignoring the derision Gordon felt the need to project everywhere. At least his family was unaware of it. Castiel plastered a smile on his face and greeted them all with a show of happiness, noticing as he did that Anna’s joy was fading, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. Maybe they weren’t as insensitive to dragon emotions as he’d hoped.

Short minutes saw Castiel out of his harness, Gordon made comfortable in the barn, and Castiel making his way around the house on his carpet. Happiness such as he’d not felt in months brought tears to his eyes as he immediately found his place amidst the familiar rhythms of home – cleaning up the clutter, prepping dinner, setting the table. Where, last time he’d come back, it had felt awkward and alien, now it was wonderful and welcoming. He’d missed feeling like he belonged somewhere.

 _Maybe I should drop out of the program, come home for good_.

The thought lacked the sting it had months before when he’d truly been in despair. Perhaps things weren’t going as well with Gordon as he’d like, but his confidence had grown in the harness and he’d grown closer with his classmates. Things were going well, truly. Everything was fine.

Maybe, if he repeated that to himself enough times, he’d believe it.

Dinner was even more boisterous than he recalled, everyone older, everyone excited that Castiel was there and that he’d brought a _dragon_ , even though Gordon hadn’t shown the least interest in any of them. When Castiel had stuck his head out briefly to see if Gordon might wish to join them he’d been summarily dismissed, with an underlying suggestion that Castiel hurry up and bring him something to eat. His siblings didn’t calm down until they were all so full that they could hardly move, Balthazar slumping back in his chair with a hand over his belly, Gabriel the only one interested in a second slice of cake.

“You looked so noble on Gordon,” said his father with obvious pride. “I still can’t believe my son is a dragon rider!”

“By the way, we were hoping you would go with us to town tomorrow,” his mother added. “Hoping _both_ of you would go. We have some shopping to do, and—” Castiel quailed at the thought and she broke off abruptly, colored, and stammered, “But if you don’t want to, um, I mean, we don’t mean to embarrass you...”

“I’d love to go to town,” he managed. He could imagine Gordon’s reaction to the provincial village only too well. When Gordon realized that the main purposes of the journey were to show off the dragon rider in the family and to get help carrying home provisions, Castiel would be too mortified to live down the approbation that would be heaped on him. “I’ll talk to Gordon about it when I bring out his dinner…now…” Grabbing the carpet from beside the chair, he unfurled and mounted in one smooth movement, sweeping across the room to where the buckets of cooked meat awaited delivery to the hungry dragon.

“I’ll help you!” Anna chirped, hopping up as well. She was at his side in an instant, hefting the first heavy serving and placing it on the carpet beside Castiel, lifting the second to carry herself. The stunned silence in the room felt like it followed them outside in to the quiet country night.

“You don’t seem happy, Cassie,” Anna said softly as soon as they got outside. The barn wasn’t far but they moved slowly under their burden, the carpet bowed under the weight of both Castiel and bucket, Anna straining to walk, holding the bucket with both hands. “When you were here last year you were so excited to meet your dragon, but now you seem…I don’t know. You don’t seem like you.”

“I’m not good enough,” he admitted. “I thought that the second year of training would be like the first, but it’s not. Gordon is…” _Gordon is demanding. Gordon’s expectations are so high. Gordon gets angry over things that aren’t my fault. Gordon is…_ “…Gordon is a very different dragon than Singer was. I’m doing my best but a lot of days that’s not good enough.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snorted.

“Anna, you don’t understand—”

“How can your best not be good enough? How can _anyone’s_ best not be good enough?”

“You say that,” Castiel was embarrassed by the note of despair in his voice, “but this isn’t like planting a field. We’re the most elite soldiers in the kingdom. Even the worst of us have to be better than the best of the regular armies.” She made an angry tsk but their arrival at the barn cut her off. Castiel didn’t pause before shouldering the doors open. The atmosphere within was tense. Gordon had stretched out on the center of the floor, wings spread wide enough that they cast shadows over most of the dimly lit interior, head stretched before him. A constant stream of smoke leaked from one corner of Gordon’s mouth. A side effect of the selective breeding that made domesticated dragons smaller than those in the wild was that hardly any riding dragons were capable of breathing fire, but the smoke was common and could be intimidating to those who didn’t know better. Anna certainly looked cowed by the display, and the two cows were pressed as far back into one corner of the barn as they could be, eyes rolling with terror. Gordon’s eyes were opened, staring at the two prey animals, tail lashing from time to time.

“We brought dinner, Gordon,” Castiel announced, though he was sure the dragon had been able to smell them coming since before they opened the door. _Which means this whole show of disinterest is just that – a show – and he’s intentionally intimidating the cows – why?_ Annoyance and boredom filled the room oppressively. With a gaping yawn that freed a noxious cloud into the air, Gordon languidly stretched and turned to them as Castiel lowered his bucket to the floor. Anna set hers beside Castiel’s, staring at the ground intently, eyes wide; chancing a glance up, she met Gordon’s gaze just as the dragon rounded. He blinked at her, slow and deliberate, and she squeaked and averted her eyes. The emotions Castiel picked up were nothing he could put into human terms, echoes of the dominance that had first attracted Castiel to the beast and now left him feeling hopelessly inferior most of the times. Taking a deep breath, Gordon sniffed at each bucket, snorted derisively, and looked up at Castiel with an expression that Castiel didn’t need empathy to read. _This is it?_ That look said. _This is the best you have to offer?_

“I’m sorry, this is the best we can do,” said Castiel. Suddenly, he felt exhausted, defeated. Sure, what they had at the farm wasn’t as good as what the Citadel could provide, but he and Gordon faced years ahead where they would be on the front line of battle. There would surely be days when all they had to eat would be moldy bread for Castiel and rotten raw meat for Gordon and they’d eat it or they wouldn’t eat. In comparison, this was luxury, and Castiel ached to think how much it had cost his parents to purchase such good cuts in such quantities. Despite that, Castiel knew that the next day Gordon would balk at having any part in the trip to market. _No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, it’s never good enough. I’ll never be good enough_. Gordon deigned to lick at the first bucket, eying Castiel and fuming so flagrantly that he was surprised Anna couldn’t feel it.

“Well, uh, we’ll see you in the morning –come get me if you need anything,” said Castiel hastily. “Second window from the right on the second floor as you face the house.” Without waiting for an acknowledgement, Castiel turned the carpet and fled from the barn. Anna followed behind him, her steps surprisingly calm as she stopped, closed the door behind her, walked a few feet from the barn and watched Castiel. In the fading twilight, her eyes were dark, her expression so severe it shocked him. Hesitantly, Castiel turned and flew back to her side. Her hands were at her sides, clenching and unclenching into fists.

“Are you alright, Anna?” he asked. _She must be really scared…she doesn’t look sacred…_

“Is that what he’s like all the time?” Her voice was disturbingly calm in a way he’d only heard her sound once before, when they were younger and Gabriel had tricked Castiel into going out with him only to take Castiel’s carpet and leave Castiel alone miles from home.

“Gordon? He’s just tired from the flight out here,” Castiel said.

“You can’t lie to me, Cassie,” she said implacably, eyes flashing as she looked up. “ _Does he treat you like that all the time?_ ”

“Like what?”

“All that disdain and arrogance? All that condescension? All that unwarranted anger?” Her voice rose with each question and Castiel’s nerves flared up. The barn door wasn’t that thick and Gordon had excellent hearing. If he heard what she said…

“It’s fine,” he said, making a calming gesture with one hand that only served to increase the anger twisting her expression. “Sometimes he’s moody but it’s no big deal.”

“No big deal? _No big deal?_ ” she echoed shrilly.

“Come on, we can talk later, you don’t have to get so upset,” Castiel said.

“Do you know how you sound? Do you remember the Millers?” At least his warning had some effect, her tone was more modulated, softer, less likely to carry. “You’re talking exactly how Mrs. Miller used to talk – _he didn’t mean to hurt us, he just got angry sometimes, he loved Max_. Cassie, something is wrong, something is very wrong. Are all the dragons like him?”

“No,” whispered Castiel. His eyes slip shut to hold in tears. Just by saying that, just by contradicting her, he was admitting the justice of her accusations against Gordon. She was right, he _knew_ she was right, but what was he supposed to do about it? “Jo is…sassy and funny and loyal, and Krissy is immature but she has a heart of gold, and Singer acts like Grandpa used to, and…and Victor is dead serious all the time, and Dean is…”

 _Dean is wonderful_.

Anna’s eyes widened. “Oh? What is Dean like?”

_Dean is the only reason I’ve gotten through the last year. Dean is supportive and caring and generous. Dean is intelligent and engaged and dedicated and so hard working. Dean is beautiful. Dean is sad and lonely because it’s been a year and no one has picked him and yet he doesn’t take that out on anyone around him._

“Dean is nothing like Gordon,” he concluded lamely, glad of the increasing darkness to hide his hot cheeks.

_Dean is the dragon I wish were mine._

“Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested in a tone that brooked no denial. “And if you make a joke about the fact that you’re flying…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” muttered Castiel.

Once the sun sank below the horizon, night came quickly to the farmlands. The deep darkness wasn’t enough to deter either of them, though. They’d grown up there and knew every acre around the farm. Dangers were minimal, only the occasional wild animal and the risk that shadows might hide an ankle-twisting hole. Neither was a threat to Castiel, and he kept his eyes open to help protect both of them.

“Does Gordon have to be your dragon?” Anna asked at length. It struck him all at once that she wasn’t simply older physically, hadn’t just grown, but like him she was more mature. Two years had passed and she’d come of age while he’d been away. He’d missed her birthdays.

 _I could come home. I could stay here_.

“We’re bonded,” said Castiel, knowing as she couldn’t that it was no kind of answer.

“That’s permanent?” she asked skeptically. As usual, she could always tell when he was being duplicitous. When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “Won’t you talk to me, Cassie? You never used to be closed like this.”

“I’m sorry, Anna,” he replied. “It’s been a difficult year. I’ve been thinking about quitting.”

“Because Gordon acts like you’re not good enough for him?” she said.

“Because I’m not good enough,” he corrected.

“Did Singer think you were good enough?” she countered. He held silent, troubled by the question. He’d thought that Singer liked him, had believed the old dragon considered Castiel a promising candidate, but they hadn’t shared a strong connection and he’d never been sure. “How do the other dragons feel about you?”

“They like me well enough,” he shrugged. “It’s different when you’re not a pair, though. It’s hard to explain – some dragons are more compatible with some riders, and there’s only one other whom I have a good sense of.”

“And what does that one think of you?” Anna kicked a rock idly, sending it skittering down into a ravine; a bird took flight with a rush of wings against leaves and an aggrieved coo.

_Gods, what does Dean think of me?_

“I, uh...well, he’s nicer to me than Gordon is,” said Castiel uncertainly. “But he doesn’t work with me every day. He just...” _He just comes when I’m upset, comes when I go to the stables and no one else is around, like he doesn’t want to be seen with me. Yet, he never minds when I go to him, he’s always so kind._ “...I don’t know.”

“Sure you don’t.” Confused, Castiel glanced over to see her face, deeply shadowed. She shot him a wink and a smile. “Is this Dean again?” He flushed. “You really like him.” Castiel mumbled a denial that she correctly interpreted as agreement. “Why can’t you be paired with him, if this bond thing isn’t permanent?”

“No one I know has switched dragons,” said Castiel. “I haven’t heard of anyone ever doing that. I don’t think it works that way.”

“But you haven’t asked? Oh, Cassie, I always envied how determined you were but there’s a difference between pushing through and being a stubborn idiot,” she held up a hand to arrest his protestations. “Is Dean...bonded...with anyone?”

“No.”

“Do you think he’d want to be bonded with you, if it were an option?”

_A soft nose breathing hot against Castiel’s neck, the comforting, steady rise of a barrel chest, a sinuous body curled against him protectively, a bottomless depth of support always there when Castiel needed it...Dean had done so much for him._

_What have I ever done for Dean?_

“I don’t know.”

“Horseshit,” she snorted.

“Anna!”

“Tell me about Gordon,” she commanded.

With a sigh, Castiel said, “What’s there to say? You’ve met him. He’s amazing – one of the most promising dragon candidates in the squad – and strong, he flies excellently, he’s fearless. He’s going to be a hero some day.” _If he can find a rider worthy of him._

“Okay, then – tell me about Dean,” she said. “Nuh-uh, none of that – just do it, okay?”

“I already did.”

“All you’ve done is tell me that Dean isn’t Gordon,” corrected Anna. “Tell me what he _is_ like.”

 _I can’t, I can’t do that, if she hears how I talk about him she’ll know. ...what will she know? Why shouldn’t she know? What am I so afraid of? It’s_ Anna _, not Gordon._

 _Am I afraid of Dean? Is that why I’ve shied away from this so much? Why would I be afraid of Dean? He’s definitely not Gordon_.

“Dean is great,” Castiel admitted. He was embarrassed by the warmth in his voice but he didn’t try to restrain it. Anna was his dearest friend in the world as well as his sister, and he could tell her anything. “He was one of the dragon candidates the day we were paired off, but I chose Gordon instead. That was a year ago, and no one else has picked Dean, and I don’t understand why not because he’s fantastic. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s not as big or as strong as Gordon, but—”

“None of that,” Anna scolded. “Stop comparing. Just...tell me about Dean.”

“Right, of course,” said Castiel. Closing his eyes, letting the carpet fly straight beside her, he tried to think of how to briefly explain everything that drew him to the dragon. “He’s warm. Not just his body, but his entire personality...he’s so _caring_. But sometimes it seems like he’s sad and I don’t know why – even riders can’t talk to dragons directly you know – and it hurts. When he’s sad...it’s like when I get a letter from you that you’re upset and I wish I could do something to make it better but there’s nothing I can. He’s really been there for me, even though he didn’t have to be. I want...” Castiel trailed off. “I don’t know, I want...” He knew exactly what he wanted, but there was a difference between feeling the conviction of it in his breast and admitting it aloud. Before he could muster the courage to make the confession, Anna put her hand on his and he jerked to stop the carpet lest he bump in to her. Dropping to a squat, she met his eyes.

“Go for it, Cassie,” she implored. “You don’t need to be able to tell me – all you have to be able to do is take the chance. Don’t you think Dean is worth it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, dazzled by the earnestness and care evident in her features. “I do – I really do – but what if he doesn’t think so, too?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

_...can it hurt to ask?_

_...yes. Yes, it could hurt so incredibly much to ask, if he says no._

_But if I don’t ask I’ll never find out. I’ll either work with Gordon forever or I’ll give up and come home. It says a lot that the second option is starting to sound better than the first._

_If Dean says no...I’ll come home._

Reaching out, he wrapped his arms tight around Anna’s shoulders, and she returned his embrace gently, helping pull their bodies close, cradling the small of his back. “Thank you, Anna,” he whispered.

“I love you, brother. I just want you to be happy.”

“I’m not now, you’re right,” he admitted. “But I think with Dean I would be.”

* * *

Avoiding Gordon during the remainder of his visit home proved depressingly easy and made evident how right Anna was. Gordon didn’t have any interest in Castiel’s family; he spent the whole time behaving condescendingly. Gordon didn’t have any interest in Castiel; he showed no inclination to enter into Castiel’s interests and concerns or to learn about Castiel’s life. More surprising to Castiel was that he didn’t _want_ to share his experiences with Gordon. When Castiel was excited about something, he was usually eager to find a dear friend and confide it in them, have them enjoy it with them. He wrote to Anna all the time about the things he did at school – or at least, he used to, he’d been writing late of less, ostensibly because they were so busy, though now that he had time to reflect he wondered if it was in part due to how unhappy he was. Further, with the seeds Anna had planted rapidly taking root in Castiel’s thoughts, he noticed how often he wished that Dean was there, wished that he could show Dean around his home, wished he could share these experiences with Dean. The difference in how he thought of each dragon was so obvious he marveled that he hadn’t noticed before.

The week home was the easy part. Fitting the harness to Gordon, Castiel realized that when he got home he’d have to find the nerve to speak to someone about what troubled him and that no matter what he said things might not work out. Preparing to take flight with Gordon provided ample distraction – triple checking the harness, casting the spells that would protect Castiel’s body from the cold and thin air of high altitudes, saying goodbye to his family.

Once they were in the air, there was nothing to distract him. The skies over the kingdom were safe. With no danger to either of them, Castiel spent the trip lying flat against Gordon’s shoulders, his arm barely long enough to hug around the dragon’s neck. Air currents buffeted beneath Gordon’s wings, keeping them aloft with scarcely a flap of wings, and Gordon’s boredom and disinterest in his surroundings crept into Castiel’s thoughts, causing him to feel more and more uncertain, sad, and disappointed. He remembered the first few times he’d gone up this high with Singer, everything had been novel and new and beautiful and exciting. Now it was so blah, and he wondered if he _actually_ thought that, or if it was just the subtle influence of Gordon’s opinions on his own. Everything about the past year seemed different now that Castiel was paying attention. Maybe he was just making excuses. Maybe he really was as useless and incompetent as he’d come to believe. But maybe he wasn’t.

By the time they returned to the Citadel, evening was falling and Castiel’s nerves were a wreck. As quickly as he could, he unburdened Gordon so that the dragon could get dinner. The dining hall the humans used glowed with warmth and smelled of stew and spices, faint sounds of conversation audible from without, but Castiel couldn’t face being around the others. If he went in there, he’d have to pretend he felt alright. He’d already put on a show for his family for a week, desperate to keep all save Anna from worrying, and he couldn’t do it another night. Too tired and frazzled to face navigating the complex by means of handholds, he loaded his belongings onto his carpet and flew to his bedroom. In the early evening, the stables were busy with many dragons eating dinner in their stalls or returning from the communal dining area. all Castiel wanted was to be left alone, and he made a beeline to his room, grateful that students in the main Citadel had more privacy than he’d had during first year. Their rooms were still above their dragon’s stables, but they had walls now, and the stables were equipped with a spell that the dragons could activate to prevent those outside from looking in. Gordon wasn’t back at his stable yet, so Castiel went to his dorm and listlessly unpacked, wondering what the next day would bring. He had to talk to Dean, find out if Dean would even be interested in the arrangement – _of course not, why would_ any _dragon want to bond with someone who’d failed with a previous mount, much less a dragon as exceptional as Dean?_ – and then speak to the Citadel administrators. The prospect of ingdiscuss his situation with Zachariah was even more intimidating than approaching Dean.

Flopping down on his bed, Castiel bunched his pillow up, wrapped his arms around it, and lay on his stomach, his face tucked against the cloth as he stared at nothing and willed sleep to come. Minutes stretched into hours and he tossed and turned occasionally. Faint sounds spoke of dragons and students returning to their rooms for the night, and then the late bell rang curfew, the lanterns went dark, and still Castiel couldn’t sleep.

_I miss Anna. I miss home. It’s not too late to go home. What I really want..._

_...what I really want is to see Dean_.

Quietly, Castiel hauled himself up and used the grips on the low ceiling and along the staircase to, hand over hand, bring himself down to the quiet stable hallway. Dean’s stall was at the far end of the complex with the other unassigned dragons. A few sleepy grooms worked overnight to be sure that the dragons were comfortable, but otherwise the building was deserted. None noticed Castiel, or if they did he paid them no mind. Reaching down to Dean’s door, he hesitated before knocking.

_I’m being a bother, I’m disturbing him, he’s probably asleep, he’s...I never used to be this way! I never used to doubt myself so! If he’s asleep he won’t answer. If he doesn’t want to see me, he’ll tell me so._

Confidence growing, Castiel rapped softly on the wood. There was no answer for a moment. Castiel’s heartbeat so loud in his ears he might still have been knocking. Through the wood, he could feel Dean’s sleepy confusion.

“Dean?” he whispered uncertainly.

The confusion dissipated in an instant, replaced by excitement and pleasure, and the stall door swung open. Before Castiel could drag himself into place, Dean’s tail reached out, wrapped around him, hauled him into the spacious room and drew him close against Dean’s body. The sense of happiness was hedged by lingering loneliness.

“You missed me?” Castiel asked. Even in the dark, Dean’s scales and eyes caught what little light twinkled through the window and made it easy for Castiel to recognize when the dragon nodded emphatically. “I missed you, too.” Abruptly, the tail let him go and embarrassment flooded the room, Dean backing away to a more impersonal distance. “No...please don’t...don’t you dare...” Castiel followed as best he could, got his arms around Dean’s neck. His scales looked cold and gray in the dim light but it was an illusion, they were so warm, made more so by another burst of pleasure from Dean. Dean’s head swung around and he brushed his face over Castiel’s back. The tension left Dean’s body and he curled up on the stable floor, making a nest of his body so that Castiel could lie in the middle.

“This is nice,” murmured Castiel. Surrounded by Dean’s body, surrounded by Dean’s contentment, all the worries that had plagued him disappeared as if they’d never been. “This is what I want.”

The empathic bond didn’t lie. There was no way for a dragon to obfuscate their emotional response when interacting with a human who could sense their emotions. The satisfaction and agreement that encompassed Castiel were Dean’s true feelings.

_I don’t need to ask him for permission. This is what Dean wants, too._

Reassured more than he could say, he burrowed closer against the warmth of Dean’s body and let his eyes slip shut. To the gentle rhythm of Dean’s breathing, lulled by the low, purr-like rumble leaking from deep within the dragon, Castiel rested easy.

* * *

“So, um, thanks for seeing me, sir,” Castiel said, keeping his eyes lowered. Zachariah’s office had a very fine carpet, woven in rich colors and likely bespelled to not wear out no matter how many feet passed over it.

“Anytime,” the school commandant said graciously. “I’m always available to my students. How can I help you today, Castiel?”

Amazement that Zachariah knew his name temporarily silenced Castiel. He chanced a quick look at Zachariah’s face. The man was a former rider, now in charge of the entire school, and he showed that experience as an inner hardness, a coldness to his eyes, and an impassive expression that belied the friendliness of his words. That sharp gaze was intent on Castiel, and it was more than he could handle. He jerked his gaze away again, focusing on Zachariah’s ebony desk, neat and clean save for a few documents, writing utensils, and an enormous dragon’s tooth yellowed with age.

“Something is troubling you...?” Zachariah suggested when Castiel failed to speak.

“Yes,” mumbled Castiel, ashamed of himself. _I’m doing this for Dean_. “Sir, I know I’m a disappointing student, but I was hoping—”

“Forgive me, I have to stop you,” interrupted Zachariah. “Why do you think you’re a disappointing student?” Astonished, Castiel looked up. Zachariah was staring at him, expression impassive, an expressive eyebrow quirked curiously.

“I’m always behind,” Castiel stammered. “I make mistakes in every class. The others are doing much better than I am.”

“You really think that?” Zachariah chuckled. “Silly boy. Castiel, I’ve been commandant of the Citadel for nearly thirty years, and I was a rider for twenty, and you are one of the most promising cadets I’ve ever seen.” Castiel’s jaw dropped. “This is because of Gordon, isn’t it?” Castiel’s mouth worked but no words came. “When you and he bonded, when you remained so through a year of training, I was optimistic that we’d finally found a student with whom he could work. He’s...challenging. Exceptionally skilled, mind you, which is why I thought you and he might be compatible, but unfortunately he’s _aware_ of how good he is. You’re the third student we’ve paired with him. The other two requested to be transferred to other mounts within the first month.”

“Within a _month_?” Castiel whispered. “Students ask that kind of thing often?”

“Good heavens, yes,” laughed Zachariah. “Your class is the first in a decade that hasn’t had at least one student switch mounts in the early months. Sometimes the students initiate the change, sometimes the dragons. It’s incredibly common. Two years ago, we had a class of ten that, two months in, half of them swapped with each other and the rest requested new partners. Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes, sir,” said Castiel, relieved. It was no longer so difficult to meet Zachariah’s eyes, and beneath the hardness a faint smile hinted at an undercurrent of kindliness. “Gordon is...he’s amazing...I’m not a good enough rider for him.” Zachariah raised an eyebrow at him and Castiel flushed. “I mean...um...”

“You know, when many students switch they feel like they are betraying their original mount,” observed Zachariah. “The bonds that form are deep, and for better or for worse the connections are very real. However, fundamentally it is no different than any other relationship. Think of the courtships you have seen. Sometimes, a man and a woman meet, they believe themselves to be compatible based on their initial interactions, they pursue the relationship, but on longer acquaintance it becomes clear they do not get along. When it doesn’t work, they end things. If things are handled poorly there might be acrimony but it doesn’t have to be thus. Other times, two people pursue a relationship and find the love of their life. It doesn’t necessarily happen on the first try, and...”

Zachariah kept talking but Castiel couldn’t focus on what he said, his thoughts overwhelmed by what he’d just heard.

_The love of my life._

He’d woken up that morning completely enfolded by Dean, Dean’s head resting alongside Castiel’s torso, Dean’s tail wrapped beneath Castiel’s hips to protect him from the hard stall floor, Dean’s wing unfurled protectively over him, enveloping him in physical and emotional warmth. In the bright sunlight coming through the window Dean’s scales had been dazzling, those struck directly by the light glowing incandescently green like the sun seen through scattering leaves, others sparkling like faceted emeralds. The brown-gold edging to each scale gleamed like polished gold and the light through the thin skin of Dean’s wings had shown every vein as meandering dark lines, every bone as a black shadow. The dragon had yet been deeply asleep, but Dean’s joy had still been overwhelming.

_Dean is the love of my life._

“Castiel?”

Blinking, Castiel dragged himself from the fantasy. Confidence buoyed him as if Dean was there in truth, as if Castiel was still cradled by affection. “Yes, sir?”

“I asked if you had another dragon in mind? Have you had a chance to get to know any of the unpaired broodlings?”

“Oh,” Castiel smiled despite his embarrassment. “Sir, I was hoping to be paired with Dean.” For the first time, Zachariah looked surprised and taken aback. Something cold clasped in Castiel’s chest. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” said Zachariah with a false smile. “Of course we’ll have to see if he’s interested as well and do some tests of your compatibility.”

“Is there something wrong with Dean?” Castiel’s voice rose angrily. _There is absolutely_ nothing _wrong with Dean! What isn’t he telling me?_

“I don’t want you to be disappointed,” Zachariah explained. “Since he came of age last year, many students have indicated a desire to be paired with Dean but he has turned them all down.”

“Why?” demanded Castiel. Zachariah gave him a quelling look and Castiel registered how inappropriately he’d been behaving. “I’m sorry, sir, I was just wondering...Dean is my friend.”

“We’ve been loath to put him to pasture because he was so promising,” said Zachariah. _Was?_ “But we may have to. Well, we’ll see how he reacts to the prospect of being bonded to you. Take the day off, Castiel. Someone will be by to speak to you tonight.”

 _No, please, tell me what’s wrong with Dean, tell me why he turns down students, tell me what’s happened with him. He hasn’t – he won’t – he_ can’t _tell me himself._

With effort, Castiel inclined his head politely and retrieved his carpet from beside his chair. It wasn’t his place to demand answers of the Commandant. More importantly, it wasn’t right for him to ask that Dean’s confidences be shared with Castiel by means of a third party. If there was something to know, it was for Dean to choose what to share and what to keep private.

It was strange to fly across the Citadel while his classmates were training. He’d left breakfast early and gone straight to the Commandant’s office, had waited more than an hour before Zachariah had time to speak with him, and now it was mid-morning. Usually, he and Gordon would have been hard at work for hours already.

_Not again, never again._

_But what if Dean doesn’t want to work with a student? What if Dean says no?_

Castiel took the long way around, avoiding the training field, avoiding any place he thought Gordon would be. Knowing Gordon, the dragon would be furious that Castiel hadn’t shown up to class that morning. Castiel hadn’t told his instructors he’d be skipping, though he’d mentioned to Hannah that he had a meeting with school staff. Hopefully, she’d passed the word along. All things considered, he doubted based on his meeting with Zachariah that he’d get in trouble for his behavior. Part of him wanted to go straight to Dean, to surround himself once more in acceptance, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to do so. Presumably, someone would be going to speak to the dragon that day, and if Zachariah had wanted Castiel present for that conversation, he’d have said so.

Nervous and antsy, Castiel returned to his room, folded up his carpet, and hoisted himself up into the rafters. He’d not trained much while he was home and his arms felt weak even though he knew it was in his head, that he hadn’t been inactive for long enough to lose strength. A few hours swinging amidst beams did wonders for tiring him out. When he finally stopped, soaked with sweat, body beyond fatigued, he collapsed on his bed and waited for his muscles to stop trembling with exertion. It was past mid-day but no one had come to speak to him. _Does that mean Dean said no?_ He didn’t want to believe it and struggled to convince himself he was overreacting. While he’d exercised his thoughts had been blissfully silent. He needed to keep distracted until he had actual information. Anyone who stopped by now would find him a damp, stinky mess, so he tiredly rolled on to his carpet, gathered up his things and went to clean up.

The building was deserted and quiet, even the grooms elsewhere that time of day. There was no line to use the wash tubs and Castiel happily let the basin fill, repeatedly casting the spell to get the water so hot it steamed. This was the kind of luxury he rarely got to enjoy, no one breathing down his neck telling him to hurry up, no studying that had to be done, no constant barrage of thoughts exasperated with him. The aches his workout had left him with washed away with the sudsy water and with them went his worries. No matter how Dean had behaved in the past, no matter what Zachariah thought he knew, Castiel _knew_ Dean. The dragon would say yes.

Leaning back, Castiel soaked himself until his fingers were pruny and he was hot through. Only then did he hoist himself from the tub, towel himself off, and change into fresh clothing.

_I should go back to my room and write to Anna._

Mounting the carpet, Castiel steered by rote towards his dormitory.

_She’ll want to know all about this. Maybe it’s premature to write now since I don’t know the outcome, but I can always get most of it written and then append the conclusion later. She’ll want to know – that I took her advice, that I went for it, that I think Dean is interested._

_But if I start such a letter and the worst happens, I’ll feel even worse_.

He couldn’t credit it. A warmth suffused his chest that had nothing to do with the bath. When Dean had finally woken up that morning, he’d blinked his large, round eyes, sunflower yellow in the dawn, glowing like the sun, and one emotion after another had come in the space of a few moments –surprise, wonder, amazement, and then happiness, so much happiness it took Castiel’s breath away.

_He didn’t remember that I was here – or he didn’t expect I’d still be there in the morning. When he realized I was, he was delighted. He—_

A roar filled the stable, painfully loud in the stone confines of the building. A burst of inexplicable rage stunned Castiel and before Castiel could react the carpet surged beneath him, his loose grip on the wool fringe gave way, he sailed through the air in free fall and then he hit the ground. Momentum kept him sliding over the coarse stone, tearing cloth and flesh, his face and side dragging painfully. Wheezing and winded, Castiel tried to catch his breath, tried to get his arms under him so he could lift himself up, tried to blink away whatever was blurring his vision. Another roar came, seeming to last forever, every second a lifetime during which Castiel had no control over himself. The arm he propped beneath himself gave way, a shadow fell over him, and he tried to see, tried to roll into bright light and safety, but his body wouldn’t obey. Emotions that made no sense combined with his own fear and distress – abandonment and impatience and anger so intense it was sickening – and he couldn’t fight through the morass. Something slammed hard into his side, knocked him through the air, and he screamed, the sound dying as he struck the wall of the stable hard and the air was forced from him. His fingers scratched at the wood, trying to find purchase, but there was none to be had and he fell to the ground, coughing weakly, unable to move.

_There are no threats here – there are guards on the wall – what’s happening – why does it hurt – I have to move – I have to see – I have to breathe – I can’t, I can’t, it’s going to kill me, it’s going to—_

The world was blurs of color, the gray of stone, the deep brown of wood, and a brilliant blue that streaked and flashed before his eyes.

“Gordon,” Castiel croaked. A snarl and raw fury answered. His vision cleared a little and all he could see was enraged dragon. Gordon was large for a riding dragon, 16 hands at the shoulder, his neck as long as his body, his tail even longer, and he was intimidating normally. Now, he was terrifying, tail lashing as he watched Castiel’s lame struggles. “Carpet...I need...” A movement to his right caught his eye, the tattered remnants of the beautiful carpet that had been his chief conveyance for most of his life. Gordon chuckled cruelly, each breath accompanied by a puff of black smoke.

_Where is everyone, where are the grooms, where are the instructors, why can’t they hear, why can’t I move..._

One large, clawed foot stepped forward slowly, nail screeching against the cobbled ground as Gordon ominously closed the space between them. His long, dark tongue curled out to lick at his lips and show off his mouthful of sharp teeth. Emotions came loudly, crushingly, through their link, all of Gordon’s possessiveness and arrogance turned outwards to convey clearly how puny and pathetic he thought Castiel was, how useless, how easy it was for Gordon to crush him to nothing.

_He’s going to kill me. Someone help me._

There was no one else there, only large dark eyes, hissing breaths, the drowning pressure of Gordon’s disgust and disdain. Castiel tried desperately to get his balance, to get his hands beneath him, but the muscles were spent by his earlier training and by his current shock and pain. He could hardly move, much less flee from the monster bearing down on him.

_Dean!_

Gordon paused before him, looming, his breath stinking as he snorted directly against Castiel’s face. Tears streamed down Castiel’s face, impossible to quell through his fear and helplessness.

_I don’t want to die, I don’t want to, I want to be a dragon rider, I want to see my family again, I want to be with Dean, please, please don’t let me die!_

Gordon’s tongue flicked out and licked along Castiel’s cheek, covering his face with slime. The world spun dizzyingly, Castiel’s breaths coming as desperate gasps, his heart hammering in chest. Surrounded by darkness, unable to control himself at all, Castiel could only wait with dread as the tongue vanished. Only the heat and stink of rotting meat ripe around Gordon’s mouth told him Gordon was still before him. Pressure closed over Castiel’s shoulder, slowly growing, slowly intensifying, and Castiel felt every jolt as teeth broke skin, sank into flesh. It felt numb for an instant, as if someone else was being bitten, and then agony burned white hot through him and Castiel screamed, unable to hear anything but his own voice echoing in his head, unable to open his eyes, unable to feel anything beyond how much it hurt and how awfully satisfied Gordon was with his actions. Castiel wished for oblivion, anything to make it stop, but he remained horribly aware as Gordon just as slowly released his grip. Without that mouth holding him upright, Castiel collapsed against the ground, sobbing in pain, his body throbbing in time to his heart beat. Another roar sounded triumph to the stable, ringing in his ears, and Castiel waited for a deathblow that he imagined forever another instant away.

Castiel only gradually realized that too much time had passed, that Gordon hadn’t hurt him again and that made no sense. There were noises, snarls and roars and the shriek of dragon nails on flagstones. Fighting through fog in his thoughts, he forced his eyes. His face was mashed against the floor and he couldn’t move, but he had a partial, unfocused view of the long, wide hall of the stable. The blob of blue had turned from him, was grappling with another shape, another dragon, green and shimmering and beautiful, so incredibly beautiful.

“Dean.” Castiel’s mouth tasted of copper and dust. Waves of nausea, fear, anger, concern, terror, washed over him, and he couldn’t tell which were his feelings and which belonged to the two dragons. Watching the battle while scarce able to make out the details was awful, he couldn’t tell if Dean was hurt or if he was winning – _he’s smaller, he’s younger, he’s not as strong, what if Gordon hurts him, what if he loses, what if Gordon kills him, no, please no, I’ll do anything_ – and the cacophony of the struggle was impossible to decipher into reason. All he knew was that they yet grappled, and that in his limited field of vision Castiel could see a growing red pool of his own blood. The room was so cold.

Movement at the edges of Castiel’s vision couldn’t draw his attention from the confrontation between the two dragons, but he recognized in the flickers in the corner of his eye that others had arrived, that human shouts had joined the sounds of the dragons fighting. Gordon’s blur disengaged from Dean’s, backing away, backing closer to Castiel, and he whimpered in fear. People, unrecognizable, stood behind Dean, as did another dragon he couldn’t identify, but Dean didn’t stop moving, he lunged forward, bright green barreling into dark blue, knocking Gordon away from Castiel, carrying them both beyond Castiel’s limited field of vision. Scales made a strange scraping sound against stone, wood splintered, and a shriek of animal pain filled the room and burst excruciating pain empathically into Castiel’s thoughts.

 _No, no, no, I have to see, I have to help Dean_!

With a groan, Castiel rolled, got his less injured arm under him and lifted himself enough that he could follow the battle. He wanted to reach for Dean, he wanted to crawl forward, but his other arm stayed limp no matter how he tried to move it. The dragons came into view and Castiel gasped, coughed on blood.

It wasn’t Dean who’d shrieked. The green had the blue pinned, the pale scales of Gordon’s belly exposed, Dean’s mouth closed over Gordon’s throat. Gordon thrashed, bright red foam at his gaping mouth, but no matter how he buffeted Dean with his wings and legs and tail, Dean didn’t let up. The gathered humans were moving, waving arms, mouths agape, but Castiel could make no sense of it. All that mattered was that Dean was alright. He let his head drop, too overwhelmed to follow more.

Dean was alright.

Unknown time passed before a burst of hot air rustled Castiel’s hair and set him to shivering and crying. He tried to lift his head. If Gordon was going to kill him he wanted to see the end coming, but he couldn’t move. Something soft brushed at Castiel’s face, gentle yet powerful enough to roll him to his side, and he choked on blood and a shriek of pain. Immediately, sorrow and regret and crushing worry surrounded him, and he knew it wasn’t Gordon.

“Dean,” he croaked. A soft rumble answered, profoundly concerned. Reaching out, Castiel groped forward with his good arm and his fingers brushed dragon scales. He grasped a handhold he couldn’t identify and clutched at his dragon with all of the little strength remaining to him. _My dragon...I hope...I want..._ “Thank you, Dean.”

A thread of terror Castiel couldn’t place wound through every other emotion he felt, every emotion he was receiving from Dean. He was freezing, it had never been so frigid in the stables even in the depths of winter. Fear wrapped around him, suffused him, joined with his pain, quashed the small relief he’d felt to know that Dean was alright. Fear was the last thing he was aware of before the world finally went black and silent.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, sorry it took a couple days to get this up, but they were busy ones, and based on the feedback I got to Chap 3 I got to thinking and decided to add a couple scenes into this chapter, so writing those added to my turn around time.
> 
> Hoping to get another chunk up later today? Not sure yet, haven't quite decided how I'm going to split what's left - and I still need to write the end.

Nothing felt as it should. The air was too warm, his surroundings were too quiet, there was no smell of brimstone, whatever he lay on was too soft, and something was missing but he couldn’t say what. Mostly asleep, he blindly skimmed his fingers over soft blanket fibers seeking warmth and smoothness. His other hand wouldn’t move. That should bother him, he should remember the problem, but his thoughts were blank, too blank, because _something_ was missing that should be there.

All at once, he knew what it was.

“Dean!” he exclaimed, jerking up, opening his eyes to take in a glimpse of a plain, unfamiliar room, dark woods and white fabrics. Pain jolted through him and collapsed back with a cry. Nausea twisted his stomach and tears flooded his eyes as he squeezed them shut.

“Oh no! Cassie, don’t move, you have to lay back.” Hands fell hesitantly on his shoulder and waist, gentle pressure trying to still him.

“Anna?” he whispered. That made no sense, nothing made sense. “What are you doing here?” Something had happened but he couldn’t remember what. He had to make sure Dean was alright. _Why wouldn’t Dean be alright?_ “Where’s Dean?”

“Dean’s fine,” she said soothingly. “I mean, he got a little hurt and one of his wings got torn badly but he’s recovering. Mostly he’s worried about you.” _Why is he worried about me? What happened? Why can’t I remember? Why does it hurt?_ A memory of a flash of blue, roaring, sharp teeth, and rancid breath assaulted Castiel’s senses and he whimpered with fear. “It’s okay, Cassie. You’re safe now. He won’t hurt you ever again.” He shook his head slightly – _Dean would never hurt me – Gordon, it must be Gordon_ – before he could grasp at the scattered images in his head, the world spun and he tried to find something, anything, that made sense that he could cling to.

“You met Dean?” His breathing calmed as the pain faded and tentatively, he opened his eyes. Anna sat on the edge of the bed, holding him down, her expression concerned, red hair falling about her pale cheeks as she watched his face. As their gazes met, she broke into a smile.

“You could say that,” she snorted. Alarmed, Castiel frowned and she laughed. “Nothing bad, Cassie, promise, but he seems very...attached to you. Have you ever watched a dragon attempt to sneak around? It’s...ineffective.” His concern gave way to confusion. “He’s been trying to see you.”

“I’d like to see him, too,” Castiel said, his fingers brushing over the blanket again. He wasn’t supposed to be touching fabric, he should be touching scales. Dean was the last thing he’d felt before...before he lost consciousness, he supposed must be what had happened. Because...the truth returned to him all at once, Gordon attacking him in the stable, Dean coming to his rescue, the roar of a predator out for his blood, the vivid sense of how it felt to have teeth sinking into his flesh. He shuddered and his bitten shoulder exploded in pain that blanked his vision. Tendrils of cold seeped from the wound, numbing his arm, piercing his heart, tightening his chest.

“Hold still,” Anna reprimanded. He wanted to, but he couldn’t stop shaking. Each shiver increased the pain he felt, the sense that his bones were freezing.

“ ‘m sorry,” his words cracked as his teeth chattered. “Tryin’ to.” Frowning, she put a hand to his forehead and grimaced at what she felt. Her hand was wonderfully warm; he leaned in to it.

_Dean is so warm. I need Dean._

“Your fever is spiking again,” she said. “Which means we’ll end up having this conversation at _least_ another time. I was hoping...but you’re going to be alright,” she sounded like she was convincing herself, “you’re definitely going to be alright.”

“Don’t un...n...n’erstand...” He swallowed with difficulty. _Why isn’t Dean here?_

“It’s been a week, Cassie,” her smile was bright but her eyes were tight, rimmed in dampness and red. “You keep waking up and passing out again. The bite is infected, it won’t heal right.”

“You...here...a week?” he asked. It felt like it had only been minutes ago, an hour maybe, since he’d been attacked. He couldn’t remember waking up any other time.

“The commandant sent for me to nurse you, because with the war in the east they’re understaffed,” she explained. “There’s only one doctor here and she can’t even do healing spells, though she’s doing her best with mundane means, I’m sure.” The room was _much_ too warm. Castiel tried to shift the blankets, though his body yet shook with bitter cold. Scowling, Anna firmed her hold on him to keep him from fidgeting. Though he could swear he was stronger than her, he couldn’t overcome her grip and he surrendered. “You can’t be left alone.”

“ ‘m sorry,” he said. “Don’t wanna be a bother.” She sighed and gave him an exasperated smile. “Dean?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised. “But only if you’ll lie still for me. Can you do that?” She waited until he nodded acknowledgement. Satisfied, she let him go and he lay back. “You’re going to heal, promise, and be good as new, but for now you have to focus on yourself, and on getting better.”

Castiel let his eyes slip shut, trying to accept that he couldn’t quell the trembling that wracked him, riding out surges of nausea, weathering bursts of cold and heat, and suffering through the ebb and flow of pain. The room was quiet, only occasional rustles betraying that Anna was present and engaged in some task. With nothing to distract him, he was aware of his body as he rarely was. At first his shoulder hurt so badly he was aware of nothing else but as time passed he realized that he ached elsewhere, his arm, his face, his stomach, his side. As he catalogued the injuries, fragments of memory suggested how he’d gotten each– his body dragging over the stone floor, a clawed foot swiping him so hard he slammed into the wall, his face mashed against the ground. Desperate to escape, he longed for sleep, he longed for Dean to come and rescue him, longed for Anna to talk to him, longed for Gordon to stop hurting him. His bunched his fingers in the blanket to remind himself which of those desires was real, that Gordon wasn’t there, that he had already been rescued, that he was going to get better.  

 _It hurts so much. I’m not going to get better; I’m going to die. I’m never going to see Dean again_.

A hand brushed against his face, cool when he’d expected it to be hot, and Anna made a soothing noise that calmed him.

_If Anna thought I was going to die she wouldn’t be so calm. She’s not lying to me. I’ll heal._

_When I do, will I be able to ride again? What if I can’t? Will they let me stay with Dean?_

_No, stop. Anna said focus on now, focus on getting better._

Slowly, the day passed; Castiel could only tell that hours were going by because of the shifting play of light against his eyelids. Occasionally, Anna adjusted his blankets, or lay a damp cloth over his forehead, or tilted his head up and helped him drink. Sometimes, the water made him feel better; others it caught in his throat and forced agonized coughs from him. The prospect of falling asleep frightened him, lest he forget his conversation with Anna, forget again what happened to him, but when the pain peaked he longed for that oblivion. He didn’t need to remember that he’d ever felt so awful.

The room was falling into a shadow when there was a light knock on the door. A chair shifted, footsteps crossed the room, and the door opened.

“How is he?” asked a quiet voice he couldn’t identify.

“It’s been a pretty good day,” Anna replied. “He only woke once, but he was calm when he did. No deliria. He hasn’t thrown up, either.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” came the reply. Hannah, Castiel thought. “Class hasn’t been the same without him. You’re doing such an amazing job, Anna. Alfie and I are going to come by tonight so you can take some time and get some rest.”

“You don’t have to, I’m fine,” demurred his sister. Hannah laughed. “What?”

“You really are siblings,” Hannah said. “He’s like that too, modest, always says there’s no problem. That’s why none of us worried about Gordon – ‘cause Cas acted like everything was fine. Don’t be like that. It’s not all on you. It’s okay if you need some help.”

“Oh, well, um...”

“I think you’re both...I think _you’re_ remarkable,” concluded Hannah.

Awkward silence fell tense over the room and Castiel felt like he was intruding upon something private. To make sure they knew that he could hear them, he used an elbow to heft himself up and opened his eyes to take in the two women lingering in the doorway, Anna standing, Hannah on a carpet, staring at each other intently.

“Hannah?” he asked tentatively, dry voice cracking. Both women started, colored, Anna turning to look at him, Hannah turning to look at her carpet as she fiddled with its wool fringe. Anna sprang to action, crossing to a basin resting on a table on the far well, ladling water into a cup.

“Hey, Cas,” said Hannah with a bright smile. She steered the carpet to beside him and rested her hand over his. “How’re you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” he said. He couldn’t help but smile at the incredulous look on her face. Before he could continue, Anna was at his side, propping him up for a drink. The fresh water felt amazing, the moisture coating his mouth and trickling down his throat. “Are you staying with me now?”

Hannah shook his head. “After dinner,” she explained. “If you think you might be up for it, we can study together so you don’t fall too far behind.”

 _Do you think I’ll be back in class soon?_ He repressed the question. There was no way she could know the answer and voicing his fears wouldn’t help. “Do you think you could get Dean for me?” he asked instead.

“Rumor is that you and he are going be bonded now,” she said tentatively.

“I hope so,” agreed Castiel. Anna eased him back down but he grimaced and cringed despite how gentle she was. A burning sensation emanated from the wounds, though he could swear that earlier it had felt cold, and his skin felt sun-touched and rough. “I spoke to the Commandant about switching. Someone was supposed to talk to Dean, but I don’t know if he said yes, or if it even happened at all. Did Gordon...” _Did Gordon hurt Dean?_ “Did Dean...” _Did Dean kill Gordon?_ He repressed both questions. The potential answers frightened him too much. Both women stared at him with matching concerned frowns. “I guess Gordon found out I didn’t want the bond any longer and was angry. I don’t blame him. I should have—”

“No you don’t,” snapped Anna. “Don’t you dare make apologies for him. If I went out with a man for a while and decided to end things and then he tried to _kill me_ , would it be reasonable for me to make apologies for him?”

“Of course not!”

“Then don’t you _dare_ suggest that what Gordon did was _your fault_ ,” Anna interrupted firmly. Arguments sprang to his mind, but he knew she was right, just as she’d been right when he’d been home and she’d compared Gordon to Mr. Miller’s abuse of his family.

_But if I’d been stronger, if I’d been better..._

“You tell him, Anna,” encouraged Hannah.

_What if Dean comes to realize in time what Gordon saw from the beginning? That’s assuming that Dean even wants to be paired with someone like me, assuming I’ll still be able to be a rider._

_Focus on now. Focus on what I can control._

“You’re right,” mumbled Castiel, accepting Anna’s help to ease back down on the mattress.

“I’m going to get Dean. I’m sure we can figure out some way to get him in here. Rest, Cas. Let Anna take care of you. You’ve got an amazing sister.” Steering her carpet away before either of them could reply, Hannah flew across the room and pulled the door closed behind her. Anna watched her go, mouth hanging open, cheeks pink. At the sound of the door hitting the frame, she hurriedly put away the cup, checked on the fire, fussed with Castiel’s blankets, did anything to look busy.

“I’m such an idiot,” Castiel said quietly, hoping to spare her further embarrassment. “At the selection ceremony, Dean tried to introduce himself but I only had eyes for Gordon. He was so big and so strong and I could sense his emotions so clearly, it was all I’d hoped for in my companion. I didn’t even talk to Dean, didn’t even look at him, when he was right there. If I’d only given him a chance, everything would have been different. I could have been with Dean this whole year.”

_Or things with Dean would have gone just the same...no, no, Dean would never see me the way Gordon did. Would he?_

“You’re in luck, I’ve got this time machine, we can go back and fix everything up just the way you wanted,” she joked. She caught his eye and winked. “Don’t waste your energy worrying about past mistakes. You’re alive, and Dean’s okay, and Gordon’s been sent in to exile for attempting to murder you. There’s plenty of time to fix things.” Simultaneously, panic and relief gripped him, fear that Gordon was alive and out there somewhere, relief that Dean hadn’t committed murder to protect Castiel. Guilt came next as he realized that he would have been much happier if Gordon were dead. _If he were gone I’d be safe. As it is...Dean will protect me. Right?_ “Oh, Cassie, if you could see your face right now.” Anna sat lightly on the edge of the bed, hardly causing the mattress to shift. Leaning forward, she enfolded him in a gentle embrace, carefully skirting his injuries. “Do you want to talk about whatever is troubling you?”

“No,” he said. “I’m being a fool.”

“I’m sure you’re—”

“I’ll feel better when Dean’s here,” he added.

“He cares about you,” she observed. “It’s obvious in the way he...I don’t know how to say it, he _feels_ it, and I can kinda sense it?”

“Yeah – that’s dragon empathy,” explained Castiel, dodging her comment on Dean’s feelings. Thinking and hoping got him nowhere. Until he could be with Dean, he’d keep going around in circles. _And there’s still the chance my fever will spike, I’ll fall asleep, and I won’t remember any of this._ “So, you and Hannah...?” Her reaction was adorable; she started and looked away, cheeks blushing crimson. “She’s very nice.”

“Isn’t she?” said Anna with a happy sigh. “She’s come to visit you every day.”

“I’m sure that’s why she’s been coming every day.” Anna’s flush grew even brighter. “And I—” A dull thud against the window interrupted him. Castiel tried to turn but pain burned up his neck and he aborted the attempt even before Anna’s restraining hand landed on his uninjured shoulder. When she’d confirmed he wasn’t foolishly trying to rise, she got up and stepped out of his field of vision. The window clattered open, a burst of cooler air blew in, and Castiel was hit with such a burst of happiness and relief that it brought tears to his eyes. Reaching back blindly, Castiel strained for scales. Instead, his fingers found Dean’s soft nose as Dean stuck his neck through the window and nuzzled at Castiel’s hand, skimming his cheek beneath Castiel’s seeking hand. With direct contact, the intensity of the emotions Dean projected grew breathtakingly stronger.

_I knew it. When he’s here there’s nothing to worry about, there’s nothing to doubt._

“Anna,” Castiel started weakly. Before he could say more she was in motion, setting her shoulder to the side of the bed to push it closer to the window, shift it so that Castiel could see Dean, so that Dean could rest his chin on the blankets. Dean’s body jammed against the outside of the building, neck straining through the small square opening. Relief brought tears to Castiel’s eyes. Dean looked fine. He looked beautiful, his eyes dark in the dimness of sunset, the whiskers on his cheeks and above his eyes twitching as he obviously battled between the desire to rub against Castiel’s body and to keep his distance lest he hurt Castiel. Every conflicted emotion struck Castiel powerfully, but none of the concern or restraint could overpower Dean’s essential elation and how nice it felt to be close to Castiel’s dragon.

_My dragon...?_

“I’m okay, Dean,” Castiel murmured, tears leaking from his eyes as he traced a line along Dean’s snout, over his scaled eye brows, along his ears. “I’m sorry I’ve scared you, I didn’t mean to. I’m so glad you’re alright. I’m so grateful that you came to help me.” Dean snorted derisively, incredulity in his thoughts. “Did Commandant Zachariah speak to you?” Dean nodded. “And are you...? I mean, are we...do you want to...?” The incredulity grew even thicker, and Castiel could swear the dragon rolled his eyes. “Is that a yes?” he asked timidly.

The affection that filled Castiel’s mind, that filled the room, was all the answer Castiel needed. Dean need never say the words; in that instant, Castiel knew that Dean had said yes, that Dean felt as Castiel did. Ignoring Anna’s protesting squawk, Castiel pulled himself onto his side, pressed his chest to the side of Dean’s face, leaned up so he could speak softly in Dean’s ear. It was painful, but he didn’t care. Some things were more important than a little discomfort, and Dean couldn’t sense Castiel’s emotions as Castiel could sense Dean’s. Dean needed to know how Castiel felt.

“I love you, too,” Castiel whispered. Dean’s ear twitched and joy burgeoned to fill the room so powerfully that Anna gasped. “Please stay with me.”

A low rumbling purr in Dean’s chest caused a humming vibration in the cheek pressed to Castiel. Wishing there was anything he could do to get closer, that Dean could fit in the room with him, Castiel slumped against Dean, finally eased into restful sleep by the vibration of Dean’s purr, the affection he exuded, and the warmth of his body.

* * *

Reaching out, Castiel dove for the ball, leading with his chest, shifting his weight so that Dean would know how to fly. If he strained, he could make the catch; he hunched up, let the harness support his weight, stretched out his hand and agony erupted in his shoulder, a line of pain arced through nerves from his wrist to his lower back, his fingers went numb, and he saw rather than felt that his hand glanced off the ball before it plummeted down. A cry, part frustration, part shame, part pain, burst out before he could stop it. Dean swerved and flapped to catch an updraft before they got close to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel gasped. Rolling his shoulder, he tried to work the pain out, tried to convince himself that the tears in his eyes were due to the sting of the wind. “I am, I’ll do better, I’ll...”

Concern was the only emotion coming from Dean.

 _Right. He’s not Gordon. He’s not angry that I made a mistake._ Castiel let out an uneven breath.

“Don’t worry, Dean,” said Castiel, using his off hand to soothe down Dean’s neck. “I’m fine. We both have a lot to learn, I guess.”

It had been a week since the doctor had told Castiel he was as healed as he’d get while lying in the infirmary. A lot had happened since then: Anna had left, Castiel and Dean had being given the Commandant’s blessing, Castiel had received a new carpet, and both of them had moved to a new stall and dorm room combination. No one suggested Dean move into Gordon’s old stall. Castiel was nervous about getting back in the air, but to his surprise Dean was even more anxious. It hadn’t occurred to Castiel that while he had two years experience harnessed, Dean only had his initial training year and some supplemental classes during the second year when he hadn’t been chosen. This was the first time Dean was working with _anyone_ other than the training instructors and he was being thrown into training a year beyond anything he’d learned. Castiel wanted to be strong for his sake so that Dean had time to learn and catch up without feeling he had to pull Castiel’s dead weight.

It was a great idea in theory. In practice, Castiel was useless.

Hannah swooped by, holding the ball and looking at him pensively. “Ready to go again, Cas?” she called.

“Yes,” he shouted back, setting himself, allowing Dean to circle to maintain their position. So far, flying with Dean had been a dream come true. His instincts were fantastic; even without direction he usually knew where to go. It should have reassured Castiel, but instead it left him worried.

_I’m holding him back._

“Show me,” Hannah shouted. Castiel quirked his head at her uncertainly. “Lift your arm!”

He tried. A lifetime of being able to move his limbs without thinking about it meant he couldn’t describe what he _thought_ as he tried to raise his hand, but regardless, nothing happened beyond another line of fire shooting through his nerves. His fingers shook, resting limply on his hip, but he couldn’t feel the fabric of his shorts.

 _A dragon this skilled doesn’t need a crippled rider_.

“You can’t, can you?” she asked. Despite her gentle tone it felt like a condemnation.

 _I don’t deserve to be here any longer_.

When Castiel had asked if his arm would fully heal, if he’d ever have full range of motion again, the doctor hadn’t answered.

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to reply to Hannah, but his silence spoke volumes. Anna had made Hannah promise to look after him as if Castiel were a child. In the past few days, Hannah had demonstrated more than once that she intended to stick to the letter of that oath. Now, she turned Jo and went to speak to the instructor. At the same time, Dean headed towards the ground without waiting for an order. Shame and disappointment left Castiel dejected and he slumped against the harness.

_Do I think that or does he? I can’t tell. Probably both of us. He has every right to be disappointed. I’m a disappointment._

A groom helped Castiel out of the harness and on to his rug – there was no way Castiel could use the handlebars and ropes to navigate the complex, not yet, maybe not ever again. _Why are they even keeping me here? Sure, Zachariah said I was a promising student, but that was before. If I can’t meet the minimum requirements, if special allowances need to be made to accommodate me, then I don’t belong here_. As soon as he was free, he settled on to the carpet gratefully, amazed by how many places he ached now that he wasn’t handling the strain of keeping his balance on Dean’s back. His shame grew; he was relieved, _relieved_ , to be out of the harness. Dean’s concern was already overwhelming and it was rapidly increasing. Before the dragon could turn to him, Castiel took a hold of the carpet and flew away.

_I’m dragging him down. I can’t do this. I’m not going to be able to rehabilitate. I wasn’t fit to be a rider before and I’m not fit to be one now. He’s only staying because I begged him to. I should never have done that to him, it’s not fair._

Castiel’s new dorm room was identical to his old one, save that now his window faced west instead of north and late afternoon sunlight streamed in brightly. Dean’s worry followed him back to the stables as Dean trailed unhappily in his wake, pursued him to the room as Dean settled into the stall beneath. Feeling utterly useless, Castiel flopped onto the warm spot that the light made on his bed and lay there long after the sun had dipped below the horizon.

_Maybe I should run away. Go home, like I was planning to before._

_But I don’t want to leave Dean._

_Selfish._

Dean’s feelings grew heavier and heavier. Concern had grown into fear, loneliness, confusion, and a small but increasing sense of anger. That, more than anything, was what convinced Castiel that he had to talk to the dragon. He thought he could bear separation, bear leaving school, bear the pain and the numbness left by his injury, but he couldn’t stand the thought that Dean would grow to resent him. Miserable, he rolled on to his carpet, a boring blue weave that was all the school had as a spare to replace the one Gordon destroyed, headed downstairs and knocked on Dean’s stall door. It swung open immediately to the accompaniment of Dean’s relief. Castiel had no idea what the dragon was thinking.

Taking his time, Castiel drifted into the room, let the stall door swing shut behind him, and hovered, unable to bring himself to look Dean in the eyes.

“Dean, I...” he licked his lips and tried to find the words and the strength to say what he had to. “I know…I know you agreed to become bonded to me before I was hurt and that having done so you’re not the sort to go against your word. I appreciate that more than I can say.” Confusion and incredulity grew. “But things are different now. I’m different now.” Fear? Castiel didn’t understand. “If you’ve changed your mind, I understand.” Anger slipped in amidst Dean’s other emotions, just as Castiel had expected it would. _When he’s not trying to hold himself back, of course he’s upset with me. Anyone with any sense at all would be upset with me._ “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to dissolve the bond. I’m not e—”

A roar, jarringly loud in the close quarters of the stall, cut him off and Castiel quailed, shrinking against his carpet, his memory full of how it had felt to have long teeth sink into his flesh. Frustration and annoyance beat at him and only a constant litany in his head – _this is Dean, he’d never hurt me, this is Dean_ – kept Castiel from fleeing. Tail lashing, Dean circled the stall, suppressing his temper to a low growl. Beneath Dean’s temper lingered the same confusion and uncertainty and unmistakable fear.

“I don’t understand,” whispered Castiel. “I thought you’d want—” Once again, Dean interrupted him, stomping a foot, turning abruptly to face Castiel and shaking his head emphatically. “You’re amazing, Dean. I don’t want to hold you back.” Dean’s continuing anger was incongruous with his behavior; he stepped around Castiel’s carpet, put himself between Castiel and the stall door and sat down heavily with a snort, back clunking against the wood door. “I’m so weak now. I was thinking…” Castiel took a deep breath. “I was thinking of quitting and going home.” In an instant, Dean’s anger was supplanted by worry and reassurance and the dragon shook his head again. “You think I should stay?” Dean snorted again, exasperated as if his agreement was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t want to go,” admitted Castiel, “but I’m afraid I’ll…” He trailed off. There were so many things he was frightened about right then, so little that made him eager or excited. _When did I forget how to be happy about being a dragon rider? When did I stop believing in myself?_

Castiel expected Dean to dismiss him, expected Dean to heap him with approbation or empty support or affection. Instead, the dragon shifted to permit Castiel to leave should he wish, curled up before the fire, and watched Castiel expectantly, ears twitching forward and back. _No, I can’t trouble him with all my nonsense, he doesn’t need to know._

 _But if he_ wants _to know…_

Before he could convince himself not to, Castiel started to talk, explaining all the fears that had come to dominate his life over the past year. At first, he stayed on his carpet, but little by little the need to be closer to Dean grew and Castiel landed and tried to pull himself to the dragon. His arm wouldn’t cooperate though, and his embarrassment held him back. As if sensing his intention, Dean stretched, looped his tail behind Castiel, and used it to draw Castiel into position resting against the dragon’s chest, an ear pressed to the scales resounding with Dean’s heartbeat. Words poured from Castiel, his throat growing hoarse. Having finally given himself permission to express all the anxieties that had plagued him, he couldn’t seem to stop. Everything that had happened with Gordon came out, everything that had hurt, everything that had made Castiel feel small and inadequate, and Dean silently supported him, held him near, and let him talk.

“I’ll try my best,” Castiel concluded, when finally he could think of nothing more. The room had grown dark while he spoke, but they hadn’t bothered to light a lamp; only the dull orange flickers of the banked fire cast shadowed illumination and refracted into a million tiny lights in Dean’s gorgeous eyes. “It might not be enough, but I’ll try.”

The acceptance that Dean projected was absolute and Castiel felt as good, emotionally, as he had physically when the doctor had come and drained discolored infection from his wound days before. _Anna was right all along. My best should be good enough. My best_ is _good enough, for Dean._

 _I’m enough for Dean_.

They passed the remainder of the evening in silence, and when the bell rang for curfew, Castiel didn’t return to his room. Right there, embraced close, protected by Dean’s claws and teeth and care and support, was exactly where Castiel belonged.

* * *

The early months of Castiel’s third year were difficult at best and tortuous at worst, their progress invisible from day to day. It was only in hindsight that Castiel realized that things that his injuries had rendered impossible had once again become doable. Dean learned quickly and the strength gradually returned to Castiel’s arm. Though numbness and nerve pain still paralyzed him from time to time, those instances grew less and less frequent and of shorter and shorter duration. By the time they were half-way through the last year, they had caught up to his classmates, their instructors were no longer pushing them towards remedial studies or suggesting that they be held back a year, and things were precisely as Castiel might wish.

They communicated as effectively as any two creatures could considering that Dean couldn’t speak and Castiel couldn’t project his emotions. If something troubled Castiel, he no longer held back, and in general Dean was as open in return, though Castiel still didn’t understand the source of Dean’s occasional sadness and reticence. Not only were things going exceptionally well in their training, but Castiel felt secure in their personal relationship.

Except in one regard.

They never talked about _it_.

Sometimes, _it_ was Castiel, waking up in the dark stall with a moan on his lips and his cock aching where it was pressed between his body and Dean’s. Desperate for release, desperate to not make noise fit to wake the entire stable, desperate to keep his embarrassing secret from Dean, he’d wrap his hand around himself and stroke free a climax, his lip caught between his teeth to reduce his impassioned cries to pathetic mewls. Even his fear of disturbing Dean couldn’t keep him from release, and when he was most gone on pleasure the dragon’s name had leaked uninhibited from his lips. Through some miracle, Dean never awoke to discover Castiel’s compromised position. Each time it happened, Castiel wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed that he’d once again escaped detection.

Sometimes, _it_ was Dean, whimpering and kicking in his sleep violently enough to wake Castiel up, Castiel returning to himself from the deepest of sleeps or the most encompassing of dreams to the feeling of profound arousal. It stood to reason: they were both 17, young and horny, and though Castiel didn’t dare hope that he was the subject of Dean’s fantasies, he no longer bothered to deny that Dean was at the heart of everyone one of his own. There was no one else that Castiel wanted, no one else he could conceive of wanting. Castiel had no idea if Dean had nights where he, like Castiel, woke up hard and needy and did his best to deal with it without disturbing Castiel. On the nights when Dean’s dreams were headiest, though, when Dean’s need was so great that it woke Castiel up, Castiel would wonder and wish he had the nerve to ask, wish he had the courage to wake Dean up and offer to help.

 _It_ was subtext to everything they did. In the middle of the night, panting and splattered with come, Castiel thought he should say something to Dean. Surely anything would be better than the unrelenting loneliness and isolation of wanting and having no idea if he was wanted in return. By morning he invariably felt differently. If Dean didn’t want him back, the rejection would be agony, and if Dean did want him back, they’d still not be able to consummate anything while they lived in the stable-barracks.

Most of the time, it was enough that they were excelling in their studies. Most of the time, it was enough that Castiel loved Dean, that he was confident that Dean loved him in return. Most of the time, it was enough to take care of himself while imagining all the things he couldn’t have, that he might never have.

But occasionally, he’d lose himself in a fantasy of Dean trembling beneath him, trembling inside him. He’d let Dean’s midnight arousal wash over him, try to conceive of how it would feel to be the target of that desire, to be completely surrounded by Dean’s pleasure. He’d run a finger over his hole, tease inside himself, and picture how large Dean must be, attempt to replicate with his meager options how it would feel to be filled and stretched and thrust into by the mighty dragon. Dean would try so hard to restrain himself, struggle against his innate desire in order to ensure that he didn’t hurt Castiel, but need and bliss would win out in the end and he’d lose himself and pound into Castiel until they both spilled headlong in to glorious ecstasy.

Castiel had no actual idea how it would feel but he wanted it, he wanted it so much that some nights he could hardly stand it.

 _Someday_ , he promised himself, _we’ll talk about_ it.

_But not today._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is short, but it was either two short ones (this and the next) or one VERY long, and the next one isn't fully written yet, so I decided to just go ahead and post it.

The closer graduation drew, the more out of sorts Dean became. It worried Castiel because Dean’s sadness weighed on him, because the dragon couldn’t use words to explain what troubled him, because Castiel had no idea what the problem was, because Castiel felt like it would be an imposition for him to ask. The whisper of anxiety that was ever-present since his time with Gordon suggested that Castiel had done something wrong, that Dean was upset with him but lacked the ability to vocalize his unhappiness. After a year with Dean at his side, Castiel had learned to discredit that voice. If nothing else, it was incredibly selfish for Castiel to see Dean’s behavior and automatically assume that it pertained to him. Traces of sadness had been part of Dean’s nature since the day they met. Castiel suspected it tied in to whatever unspoken objection Zachariah had to Castiel pairing with Dean. Whatever the issue was, it was something personal. Dean had never offered to share, so Castiel pushed it from his mind, told himself it was none of his business, and pretended that it didn’t hurt that Dean wouldn’t confide in him.

Graduation day was understated. Some families attended, both human and dragon, but Castiel’s had decided not to, citing the huge expense of the trip and that Castiel would be visiting them for a month immediately after. Dean’s family wasn’t there either. While everyone was excited, there was also a quiet, pervasive gloom. Graduation, for Castiel and his classmates, likely meant separation from each other and certainly meant that they’d be going to the front lines. There was a campaign being waged against the rogue dragons of the Jagged Teeth and, reading between the lines, Castiel didn’t think things were going well. The honor roll that school maintained of deceased graduates had grown noticeably longer, though little was said to draw attention to the losses or to memorialize the deceased. Castiel wondered if that’s what Dean was sad about – the prospect of leaving the school, leaving his friends, and the dangers of the battles to come. Castiel had broached the topic a couple times, but Dean’s replies had been unrevealing.

After the ceremony concluded, Castiel returned to his room to pack the remainder of his belongings. Their leave would be spent with Castiel’s family, as Dean had not indicated that he wished to take any time for his own uses, and then they’d been assigned to a garrison on the far right flank of the mountain range for training and preparation. Half the graduates would be there too, so at least temporarily they’d be together. The others were scattering to all corners of the kingdom. It didn’t take long to gather his things; he had a handful of shirts and baggy shorts, a few books, a few personal things. He loaded everything on to his carpet and went downstairs to check on Dean. To his surprise, the dragon not preparing. Ambivalence filled the air and Dean sat on his haunches, wings held loosely at his sides, staring intently out the window. He didn’t have a view: an administrative building with heavily curtained windows stood across the cobbled street, occasionally people walked or floated by on carpets, occasionally dragons trundled about their business, with or without mounted riders. The day had started nice but it had grown overcast and the dull light in the room made colors seems flat.

“What’s the matter?” asked Castiel, concerned. Dean sighed, thin smoke trailing from his nose, his front shoulders slumping, sadness evident though Castiel thought he was trying to hide it. Swinging forward, Castiel threw himself onto Dean’s upper back, held him tightly and gently kissed a scale though Dean surely couldn’t feel it. Dean sighed again, deflating beneath Castiel, and twisted his head back to nuzzle at Castiel’s side. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but I’d like to help.” Helplessness compounded the sadness. “There’s nothing I can do to help?” Castiel asked, checking if he’d interpreted Dean’s response correctly. The feelings intensified. “There’s nothing anyone can do to help.” Dean nodded, lids low over his eyes, whiskers drooping.

Settling to the ground, Dean curled around Castiel in their favorite position, Dean curled into a circle, Castiel nestled in the center. Normally, lying thus meant being enveloped in Dean’s happiness so completely that Castiel sometimes wondered what he offered the dragon in return for his devotion. Now, melancholy and loneliness filled the air. Unsure what he could do, Castiel slid down to Dean’s side and ran a soothing hand over the arch of Dean’s neck and along his back.

“You’re not alone,” murmured Castiel. Dean shivered beneath him and burrowed his head against Castiel’s side. “I’ll never leave you, just like you’ve never left me.” Love and sadness and fear swept over Castiel so powerfully he shook. “You were alone before, weren’t you…” A choked off whimper that Castiel took for agreement came by way of answer. “Did something happen to your family, Dean?” Anguish beyond anything Castiel had felt before brought tears to his eyes.

“Oh, Dean,” he said, unable to keep from crying. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could make it better – wish I could take your pain and—” A massive surge of denial shocked Castiel and he froze, mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume—” The feeling intensified. “I don’t understand. I’m sorry, Dean, I just want to help.” Dean curled around him tightly, possessively, and Castiel wished the dragon could speak and explain, rather than Castiel having to guess based on Dean’s emotional state. Proximity seemed to calm Dean, his frustration easing. “You’ve done so much for me, I want to do as much for you. I don’t want you to hurt.” Profound agreement. “You don’t want me to hurt either…oh, you don’t want me to feel what you’re feeling, because then I’d be in pain?” Castiel felt more than saw Dean’s nod. “That’s true, but how do you think I feel when I see you suffering? If you shared with me, we could carry these burdens together.” To Castiel’s disappointment, Dean drew his head away to gaze at Castiel uncertainly. “If you wanted to.”

A long silence was filled with Dean’s shifting feelings. He cycled through such a range, reservation and sadness and loneliness and care and protectiveness and others that came and went so quickly Castiel could scarce attach a meaning to them before they were gone. Finally, Dean settled into warmth, into the love they rarely discussed but always shared, and cuddled close again.

“I wish you could tell me why you care about me,” whispered Castiel. “You’ve done so much for me, starting from the first day you comforted me, and I’ve never understood why – why you approached me then, why you studied with me, why you wanted me to be your rider. The only part that isn’t weird is that you saved me – because I know you, you’d have saved anyone being attacked like that, because that’s how you are. You’re so brave, Dean,” there was a confusing burst of, of all things, agreement, “and smart,” the agreement grew, “and good,” and grew, “but maybe not modest,” Castiel laughed. Disagreement. “That’s not what you meant?” Agreement. “That _is_ what you meant?” Dean snorted. “Dammit, Dean!” Dean nuzzled him, and Castiel chuckled; Dean burrowed closer, nose flush to Castiel’s chest, hot breath easily passing through the fabric of Castiel’s shirt to tickle at the skin beneath, and Castiel chuckled, then laughed, as Dean didn’t let up until Castiel was a gasping, teary-eyed mess. Happiness flooded in, a welcome, reassuring change from Dean’s earlier gloom.

“You’re happy when I’m happy,” Castiel murmured. Dean nudged closer and bobbed his head. “Oh! You were trying to say that you think I’m those things – that I’m smart and good?” Another nod. “And that’s why you care for me?” The feeling that responded to those words was _enormous_. It could wash him away, encompass him and never let him go, and he would be happy to let it do so. Whatever it was – there was no word for something so fundamental and profound – it was Dean’s true answer to _why he cared_. Castiel could do nothing but bask in that feeling as it slowly faded back to quiescence, but having felt it once he realized it underpinned everything Dean did, everything he thought. Castiel would be aware of it in every future interaction they had. “I never realized…I was wishing you could put your feelings into words…do you wish I could project mine as emotions? Nothing I _say_ will ever communicate what you just shared with me.” Dean’s response was silent embarrassment – yes, Dean did, but he’d never ask it. For the first time, Castiel let himself fully embrace everything he loved about Dean, everything he wanted when they were together, accepted it and doused himself in it, and was shocked to find he _could_ produce an emotion as enveloping as the one Dean had projected onto him. The feeling heated him from head to toe, brought tears to his eyes, caused him to wrap his arms around Dean and hold on so tightly he trembled even as he wished they could be closer still.

“Can you feel that?” asked Castiel hopefully, but Dean shook his head, wistfulness tinging his joy. “I wish you could. I love you so much, Dean. When we can be alone – soon – I’ll try to show you, okay?”

Expectation – gentle, not pressing – was Dean’s reply, and with the glow of that giving them both something to look forward to, they secluded themselves for the evening and finished their minimal preparations for leaving the Citadel the next day.

* * *

Late spring fields and forests spread out endlessly beneath them as Dean flew effortlessly towards the farm where Castiel had grown up, following the directions they’d discussed earlier and the subtle clues in how Castiel shifted on his back. Over his years of training Castiel had grown intimately familiar with the lay of the kingdom, of the lay of most of the civilized world and parts of the uncivilized, so that he could navigate without referencing a map. He could use a map as well, if necessary, and if he lacked a map he could use the tools that were stashed in the net bag of his harness, but the delicate instruments were challenging to use while in flight and it was always better if he knew the route beforehand. Going home was easy, the landmarks along the way familiar and clear from the air. Leaving home would be harder.

Dean swung his head to their right – north-by-northwest – and began a long, gradual descent. Frowning, Castiel tried to steer him back on to their previous course, shifting to the left of Dean’s back so far that Dean’s wing brushed Castiel’s hip the next time he flapped. The answering disagreement Dean projected was polite but firm, and though Castiel didn’t understand, he acquiesced, shifted back to the center of Dean’s back and let Dean direct their way, making mental note of where they went so he wouldn’t have trouble returning to their prior route. No other feelings came from Dean as they traveled, the dragon controlling his emotions carefully. Tending north, farther north than Castiel had ever traveled, the scattered farmland and occasional villages or towns in miniature far beneath faded into the distance behind them and in the hazy distance mountains reared up. Foothills grew from the flatlands, covered in deep, primal forest that followed every contour of the land, ripple through shades of light and dark green as it grew dense in ravines and thin on hilltops. As the hills grew steeper and higher, increasingly their caps were bare save for rocks and scraggly bushes. None of it looked inhabited by man, though Castiel knew from his studies that the northern forests were home to many sentient creatures and the mountains beyond were the homelands of the riding dragons and the few humans who lived among them. Castiel wondered if this was where Dean was from, but even should he speak, with their altitude and the rush of wind Dean was unlikely to hear, so he held quiet. To Castiel’s surprise, Dean made for one of the foothills, well short of the peaks, and landed on a rocky promontory on a hillock higher and craggier than those around it.

As soon as they landed Dean burst sadness. Looking around, Castiel tried to see what about this location might prompt such an emotion and realized that what from the air he’d taken for boulders strewn at random were actually large cairns, carefully built in accordance with dragon burial rituals. Three graves made a line, the left and right enormous heaps of stone big enough to be the final resting place of an adult dragon, the one in the middle significantly smaller, definitely a juvenile; on that one, the rocks had caved in as the body had wasted away beneath and white bones stuck out into the clear air. Dean’s alarm as he noticed the damage was immediate, and he keened loud into the still, quiet air, frightening a flock of birds into taking flight from the forest beneath them.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel said sadly, wrapping his arms more tightly around Dean’s neck. The throb of Dean’s throat beneath Castiel’s hands spoke to every sound that Dean was trying to hold back. “Your parents?” Dean nodded. “And sister – no, brother. I’m so sorry.” Reverently, Dean crossed the small distance to the cairns and knocked at one of the stones that had rolled from his brother’s grave listlessly. It clattered against the base of the grave, knocked several other stones loose, and skittered across the bare granite of the hilltop. Dean sighed and, defeated, he slumped to the ground before his family’s resting place. Despair rolled off Dean, but there were other emotions mixed in as well – determination and guilt, shame and loneliness – and Castiel wondered many things: what had happened to them, if Dean had built these graves himself, how Dean had survived, whether he’d been to visit before, how long ago this had happened. Castiel would probably never learn the details, since Dean couldn’t share them and it felt inappropriate to try to learn them from anyone else even though he suspected that Zachariah, at least, must know. It meant a lot that Dean had brought Castiel here. If they hadn’t reached their understanding the previous day, Castiel suspected this side-trip would not have happened and he was glad that he’d been able to contribute in some way to Dean coming to this place and paying homage to those he’d lost.

The sun reached its mid-day peak as Dean silently mourned, and Castiel stayed in his harness and held his dragon the entire time. At length, Dean seemed to find the motivation to move, to move on, and he nudged another of the stones that had fallen loose. With a burst of inspiration, Castiel said, “Let’s fix it!” Confusion answered him. “Let’s repair the grave – let’s cover him again.” Dean’s reticence came through loudly and Castiel flushed. “I mean, if you want to…I thought the rituals required the cairns to prevent the dead from being bleached by the sun, so that dragons would be encased in stone as the dragons of the ancient times are forever?” Castiel was relieved that his words brought back some of Dean’s usual enthusiasm and energy.

With a decided nod and a sense of determination, Dean burst into the air and flew them to a nearby hill scattered with rocks ranging from shattered pebbles to boulders larger than Dean’s barrel chest. The harness was well-equipped to carry a fair amount, and Dean had enough prehensile use of his front legs to lift the stones, though he couldn’t pass them to Castiel. Instead, Castiel leaned down and trusted the harness to keep him from falling as he grabbed the rocks he could reach and added them to the netted sacks made to hold baggage and weapons. When the harness was full, Dean took ponderously to the air, flying low and slow under his burden, and landed with a heavy thud before the graves. Unloading the stones proved faster, and though the first load was not enough to completely cover the exposed ribs, a second trip was. As they worked, Castiel tried to imagine a newly aggrieved Dean doing this task alone, bringing the bodies to the hill from wherever they’d fallen, placing them just so, carrying one rock at time until the corpses of his loved ones were forever lost from sight. Then, there would have been flesh over the bones, well-loved faces that would never open their eyes again. It hurt to think about, was agony to imagine how Castiel would feel if it were to happen to his family.

_I wish I could have been there to help him through that. I wish he had never had to be alone._

When they were done, Dean settled onto his haunches and stared at each grave in turn, and Castiel did what he could with his body language – soothing touches and tight holds – to communicate the sympathy and support that he couldn’t project empathically. Dean only delayed a few minutes, though. To Castiel’s surprise, he turned towards the first grave in the line and with difficulty he ran a claw over the hard stone, leaving faint white lines as he scratched. Dean’s forelegs weren’t like hands and Castiel had never known him to draw before, or – Castiel realized after the first few lines were made – to write, but apparently he could. The letters were ill-formed but recognizable. _JOHN_ , Dean wrote; he turned to the second large cairn and wrote _MARY_ , and before the small middle one he spelled out _SAM_ , his paw trembling so badly by the end that the _m_ was nearly indecipherable. Castiel held him and wept for both of them, wept for the three dragons who had died without his ever getting to meet them.

Steeling himself, Dean turned from the graves, but as he did a shimmer caught Castiel’s eye and he exclaimed wordlessly in surprise. Dean froze and turned back, and Castiel explained, “I think there’s a gem on the ground? In between Sam and Mary…” Dean approached and the shine was revealed to be a glittering dragon’s scale, a rich red-brown color that gleamed ruby in the sunlight. With a sad cry, Dean gestured with his head towards Sam’s grave and batted at the scale with his foot, but it was flush with the ground and wouldn’t budge.

“Let me,” Castiel said. Dean shifted so Castiel could retrieve the scale. Pulling himself back up, he leaned to the other side to hide it amidst the rocks, but a rising sense of hesitancy from Dean stopped him. Possessiveness – ownership – came through, and Castiel asked, “You want to keep it?” Dean shook his head. Uncertain, Castiel reached over to place the scale but froze at Dean’s disagreement. “You want me to keep it?” Dean nodded. “Thank you, Dean. It’s beautiful. He was beautiful.”

Dean’s shrill cry, anguished and lost and sorrowful, sounded over the rolling hills and endless wilds until it seemed the whole world resounded with his grief. With a burst of strength, he took to the air, flapping hard to gain altitude, and in the space of heartbeats they left the lonely gravesite behind, the fading echoes the only sign that dragons and life had ever graced that place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I added a couple more tags related to the smut, and I also added the slow burn tag as, having crossed 30k words and not yet gotten to the actual sex, I feel that's only fair. But hey, there's been some masturbation, it's better than nothing right? :)
> 
> In other news, Tumblr is down right now and it's driving me crazy cause I can't post an update that this has been posted. In case y'all don't know, you can follow me on Tumblr at username unforth-ninawaters. It's mostly me babbling, a whole mess of (mostly Destiel) art and fanart, and a side of politics and feminism and LGBTQA and anything else that catches my fancy. And ducks. For reasons.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations, everyone, you've made it through all the feels and angst and such. Here, have a whole pile of smut. ;)

“He’s here!” Castiel’s mother called the eager alarm. She leaned out of an upstairs window, beaming and waving, and Castiel waved back. Something inside the house made a banging sound, but before Castiel could worry, Dean startled him by taking a step forward, placing his front legs on the side of the house and lifting Castiel up high so he could give his mother a hug from his harness. His mom squawked in surprise – Castiel doubted she’d been so near a dragon in her life – but hugged Castiel enthusiastically anyway. “I’m so glad you’re home!”

“I’m glad to be home,” he said. The heaviness that had settled over his heart while he and Dean had visited the resting place of Dean’s family lifted to see her smiling, eyes shimmering with joyful tears. He drew back from her embrace. “Mom, this is Dean.” Excitement and nerves played equal parts in Dean’s emotions as he held his head still before Castiel’s mother and she tentatively put a hand on Dean’s cheek. Dean blinked slowly, wide-eyed with wonder, but she didn’t seem reassured; she flicked an uncertain gaze to Castiel. “Don’t worry – you’re doing fine.” He wanted to laugh at her distress. Castiel unthinkingly understood so much of what Dean did that it hadn’t occurred to him how confusing Dean’s behavior might be to someone who didn’t recognize his expressions and couldn’t hear his thoughts. When he thought of the contrast between Dean’s friendliness and Gordon’s condescending disinterest the year before, his humor faded. She was right to be unsure of herself, given her past experience.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she said diplomatically, taking her hand away. Dean dropped down to all fours before the house, curled his head down and around and bowed. That she understood and she laughed with delight. While Dean was still down the door burst open and Gabriel, Rachel and Inias tumbled out. They gawked at Dean, excited to meet him, and Dean was thrilled to let them run hands along his scales, touch his wings, even permitting Gabriel trace a finger over the long, thick scar on Dean’s wing left by Gordon’s attack. That led to them asking about the fight with Gordon – they’d only heard Anna’s account and hadn’t seen Castiel since before then. With the negligent indifference of youth who had never suffered injury or setback in their life, they asked about the fight, begged to see Castiel’s scars and to importuned him to describe what it was like to battle a dragon. Dean’s annoyance on Castiel’s behalf grew, but Castiel took the questions calmly until his father came out and demanded to know what the delay was and why Castiel wasn’t inside yet.

To Castiel’s surprise, relief and gratification, his father’s words prompted a boisterous argument about the unreasonableness of abandoning Dean. It was a beautiful day, cajoled Inias, why couldn’t they stay outside together? Again, the contrast between last year and this was stark and made Castiel so happy. He’d wanted his family to like Gordon, had been terrified that they wouldn’t, and when Gordon had been rude to them it had hurt badly. Gordon’s rejection of them had felt like a rejection of Castiel. On some level, he’d known that if they didn’t get along he’d be forced to face how unhappy he was with the blue dragon. Those fears had been borne out, though the end result had been positive. If he hadn’t taken Gordon home, if he hadn’t spoken with Anna, he might never have broken things off and requested to switch to Dean.

Being with Dean was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Castiel was nervous this time but it was different. Castiel wanted his family to welcome and accept Dean not out of fear but because Castiel loved Dean and because Dean deserved a family that accepted him. There was no worry that Dean would act inappropriate or aloof; Castiel’s biggest concern had been that, in light of what had happened with Gordon, his siblings and parents might be distant with Dean, concerned that this new dragon they didn’t know would hurt Castiel as the previous dragon had. Fortunately, there was not a sign of that in their behavior. When Anna finally joined them, the grin and wink she gave Castiel led him to suspect that her influence was at play. By the time she’d finished nursing Castiel back to health and left the Citadel, her attitude towards Dean had grown from tentative to approving to absolutely _glowing_. Of all of them, she’d seen firsthand how happy Dean and Castiel made each other. He was sure her good report was why his family was so open to Dean.

As they settled down for an early al fresco dinner, Castiel had a beaming smile for everyone. The morning hadn’t been easy, but the afternoon and evening had been wonderful. Dean was in turn delighted and shocked at his reception. It crossed Castiel’s mind that this was everyone, his whole family, and it was perfect now that Dean was a part of it.

When full darkness fell and the time came for the family to head inside, his mother mentioned that she’d made up a bed for Castiel in the room he’d once shared with his brothers, but no one seemed surprised when Castiel sheepishly indicated his intention of sleeping in the barn with Dean. Anna even gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up that left him bright red. There was no way they could suspect the truth about the depths of Castiel’s affection, they simply took it as a good sign that Castiel wanted to be near his dragon. But Castiel knew the truth. The later it got, the more fixated he became on a single idea. The barn had thick walls and was far enough from the house that no one within one would be able to hear what happened in the other. Dean and Castiel finally, _finally_ , had some privacy.

Even knowing that, as they prepared for bed Castiel couldn’t bring himself to talk to Dean about what he wanted. They’d had such a long day, he reasoned, and needed to rest – especially Dean, who’d flown a vast distance in addition to their emotionally taxing morning.

They’d waited so long already. What Castiel wanted could wait until the morning.

Or maybe the following night.

They had a month at the farm. Surely, Castiel would find the nerve to speak up before they had to return to duty.

* * *

_Scales passed smoothly beneath Castiel’s hands. Wings trembled as he ran his fingers over the tracery of bones and veins that supported the thin membrane that was somehow strong enough to hold dragon and rider aloft. Dean quivered at every touch, tail lashing; he slouched to his side, hind leg held up to show the thin tip of him peeking out, pink and wet, only the edge of his protective foreskin visible. Sliding down Dean’s torso, Castiel wrapped his hands around the base of Dean’s tail and massaged and rubbed through the scales and skin, pressed on Dean’s sheathed cock and watching with bated breath as his ministrations brought Dean more and more pleasure, caused more and more of Dean’s erection to emerge. A low growl burst from the dragon and Castiel tore his eyes away from temptation to see Dean’s head thrown back, neck beautifully arched, throat fluttering with every breath._

_Blink._

_Dean perched over Castiel, licked delicately at his chest, gentle movements belying the might of Dean’s jaw, the sharpness of his teeth. Dean’s tongue had an unexpectedly rough texture, abrasive enough to make every lap over Castiel’s nipple feel fantastic and maddening. Needy sounds Castiel couldn’t stop leaked from him, his hips rutting at air, his cock bobbed and dripped hot liquid onto his belly. Dean eagerly shifted to clean up the mess and Castiel broke into incoherence, unable to beg and cry bliss at the same time._

_Blink._

_Their bodies moved in harmony as they thrust together and apart with increasing urgency. As one, they came together to bury Castiel’s cock deep in the wet, tight space between Dean’s cock and foreskin, came together to slot Dean, thick and leaking, between Castiel’s thighs._

_“Dean,” he whimpered, “Dean…Dean…want you so much…need this…need to…_ oh, _Gods_ , Dean…Dean…please, Dean…” The scattered fantasies dissolved into hazy reality. Castiel’s hands were balled into fists against Dean’s torso, barely finding enough purchase to hold him in position as he rutted his aching erection against Dean’s scales and the fabric of his shorts. His voice was unrecognizably deep to his own ears, he could hardly believe he was making those filthy, desperate noises. Despite his hopes, Castiel behaved this time as he always had before, by forcing himself to stillness and silence and praying that Dean hadn’t heard. The barn was pitch dark, the air close with heat and straw dust, the animals calm and asleep, not nearly as intimidated by Dean as they had been by Gordon. Castiel’s desperate breaths were unnaturally loud in his ears and he waited for his body to calm enough that he could go back to sleep.

With a harsh growl, Dean’s head knocked against him, a huff and shove pushed Castiel to the ground, rolled him onto his back, and Castiel felt a flicker of fear at Dean’s aggression. _I was wrong all along, he didn’t know before how hot he makes me but now he does and he’s disgusted, he wants me away from him, he wants me to stop, he wants—_ A burst of arousal definitely not his own and a wet tongue rubbing at Castiel’s erection through the fabric of his shorts obliterated all thought in an incredible burst of bliss. Castiel threw his head back and groaned, arching his back to push his hips forward against Dean’s mouth as the dragon lapped at him again. Spit soaked Castiel’s pants, hot and wet and _good_ but not enough.

Every fear vanished in an instant, every concern that had kept Castiel’s silent for so long disappeared.

_How do I….how do I get him to touch me? How do I get him to lick me?_

Desperation was so thick in Castiel’s head that it was hard to think and it wasn’t until a third lick left him writhing against the floor that he realized he could untie his waistband and push his shorts aside. Movements jerky and frantic, Castiel freed his cock barely in time for Dean’s next lick to envelop his length in pressure and slickness such as he’d never dreamed of. The room flashed brilliant white, heat seared him from hip to head, and he swore he could see Dean, every perfect line of his sinuous body, the curve of his broad wings, his whiskers quivering with the desire that filled the air. Dean passed over him again, tongue curling around Castiel’s cock, and with a gasp Castiel’s muscles tensed and he came, no other sound able to escape through his corded throat. The heavy feeling of Dean’s shared interest left him dizzy as Dean meticulously licked up every drop that Castiel spilled.

“Stop!” Castiel tried to say, but no sound came out. “Dean…can’t breathe…” Dean whipped away from him, panic and worry strong enough to swamp even Dean’s arousal, and Castiel slumped against the packed dirt floor, tears leaking from his eyes as he tried to get his equilibrium back. He was shocked that he’d peaked so quickly, at how much more intense that had felt than anything he’d experienced before. “Don’t…don’t worry…wanted that…want you…” Flush with relief, Dean came close again and nosed at the hem of Castiel’s shirt, nosed at Castiel’s soft belly until he giggled. An aftershock of bliss rocked him and his laughter broke into a low groan; Dean’s desire ratcheted up.

Splashes of brightness slowly faded from Castiel’s vision and made the darkness seem deeper by contrast. Dean’s head rested on Castiel’s belly, large eyes gathering light from who-knew-where to gleam faintly brown. Each of Dean’s exhalations came as a high-pitched whine and puffed hot over Castiel, rippling the fabric of his shirt and teasing at his skin. As his own emotions calm, Castiel became acutely aware of how aroused and desperate Dean felt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, forcing muscles that still felt liquid to obey him, “I should have…” He shook his head, not sure how he could have done differently than he had. Dean moved his head, allowing Castiel to roll onto his belly and pull himself hand over hand down the length of Dean’s body, hands on scales guiding him where vision couldn’t. Dean lay on his side, wings held up and out of the way, belly exposed, position nearly identical to the one he’d assumed in Castiel’s dream. Castiel skimmed beneath his wings, found the curve of Dean’s leg where he had it pulled out of the way. Shaking with anticipation, Castiel curled his hand around the joint of Dean’s thigh and pressed the tips of his fingers into the soft, vulnerable scales of Dean’s belly. His palm brushed something hot and moist that bucked into the contact and Castiel bit his lip against a moan as he wrapped his hand around a length so thick he couldn’t reach all the way around. Dean burst out a croaking cry and pushed forward against Castiel’s hand; Castiel tightened his hand around the foreskin, dragging the loose sheath over the sensitive organ beneath.

 _He doesn’t have hands…has he ever been touched like this? Can he reach himself with his tongue and mouth?_ Without being able to say why Castiel felt a conviction that he was the first to touch Dean, that Dean hadn’t been with another dragon, hadn’t pleasured himself. It helped bring his thoughts into focus. He didn’t want to hurt Dean. He wanted Dean to feel better than he ever had. He wanted Dean to feel loved as Dean so often made Castiel feel loved.

Gently, Castiel stroked up Dean’s length, hand clasping tighter as Dean tapered thinner, until he found the end of Dean’s foreskin. In the dark, he could see nothing, but he’d studied dragon anatomy. The foreskin was thick and dull gray, same shade as the skin beneath Dean’s scales, and served as a second layer of protection above and beyond the cavity that housed the cock within Dean’s body when he wasn’t aroused. Beneath those protections, the vulnerable cock was pink and always wet, always ready, as long as Castiel’s forearm, thin at the tip but growing steadily thicker to the base. Over the past year Castiel had seen Dean peaking out from time to time, but only in his fantasies had he seen Dean fully aroused. Now, he explored by touch. More excited than he could believe, Castiel tentatively ran his finger over the exposed tip, smooth and strangely tender despite how hard Dean’s erection was. Exploring, Castiel found Dean’s slit, slick with leaking liquid, and he circled the opening with his thumb, teasing free more. Dean cried out raggedly and something slammed into Castiel’s back, rubbed against him. It processed a moment later that it was Dean’s head; Dean’s mouth was rough against his skin, his scales hot despite the thin barrier of Castiel’s shirt.

“Did I hurt you?” asked Castiel. Dean shook his head emphatically and pressed Castiel’s body against Dean’s belly. With increased confidence, Castiel wrapped his hand around the narrow tip of Dean’s cock and stroked down him, grip loosening the further down he got, drawing the foreskin back as he did. As hot as Dean usually was against him, he was more so now, his wet breath blossoming damp over Castiel’s back. He skimmed back up the length, tightened his grip and ran down it again, reveling in how Dean shuddered against him, noises somewhere between grunts and whimpers escaping into the dull air of the barn. Though Castiel had recently climaxed, his blood ran hot, his body felt feverish, and he doubted it would be long before he was hard and ready again. Making Dean feel good was incredible, both literally – Dean’s pleasure enveloping him – and figuratively – the gratification of knowing that Dean wanted him, the bliss of touching where he’d so long been able only to imagine. With the mighty dragon trembling around him, Castiel felt powerful, trusted, and adored.

Thick come burst in a stream from Dean’s cock as the dragon cried out. In one of the barn stalls, there was a frightened kick, but Castiel couldn’t bring himself to worry about the cows. In that moment, nothing mattered except Dean. Castiel’s hands were coated in sticky release and an impulse seized him; he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the tip Dean’s spurting cock. Come, so hot it hurt his tongue, unexpectedly flavorless, filled his mouth and he choked trying to swallow. Continuing to stroke Dean hard, milking him through his climax, Castiel drew away to catch his breath and clear his throat, then kissed the tender flesh once more and sucked hard. Dean came and came, gently thrusting into Castiel’s hand when Castiel’s strokes slowed, and it dawned on Castiel that, unlike a human, Dean didn’t simply release and finish. Possibilities burst into Castiel’s imagination as he pictured how that hot come would feel within him as Dean thrust into his body. Biting his lip against a moan, he struggled to force a hand between his chest and Dean’s belly; Dean held him so close it was hard to maneuver, but he finally managed to get a palm on his rapidly hardening cock.

“Want you inside me,” he moaned, hardly aware he spoke aloud through the fog of desire filling his mind. Agreement burst upon him, piercing through bliss so intense that Castiel wasn’t sure which of them felt it. “Want…want to…Dean, wanted this so long…all along…” A burst of Dean’s release spurted hard enough to hit Castiel’s chest, soaked his shirt, dripped down to coat Castiel’s erection and smooth his grip as he jerked himself off roughly. “So _hot_ , I…I…” His gummy hand skimmed along Dean’s length, caught on his foreskin, and Castiel remembered his dream of thrusting against Dean, of thrusting together. He moved before the thought fully formed, scooted his ass forward, lined his cock up against Dean’s, and gripped Dean’s foreskin to draw it over both of their cocks. Sensation enveloped him as if his entire body was being touched. Dean made a choking sound and thrust against him, ample release slicking them thoroughly. Leaning most of his weight against Dean’s belly, Castiel rutted forward, thrust between Dean’s cock and foreskin and groaned in profound bliss. It was so hot around his cock, so wet, so smooth, the space so tight, he couldn’t believe how good it felt. His dreams had been a pale shadow of reality; that would never be enough to sate him again. Only the vivid reality of touching Dean, brushing against Dean, feeling Dean break apart with bliss around him, would be enough to get him off. His movements were erratic and uneven, he used a hand to help him pleasure Dean and thrust as best he could, panting out harsh sounds all the while. Time ceased to mean anything, the darkness irrelevant, every quiet noise they each made seemed impossibly loud. Dean rocked against him, tilting into Castiel’s strokes, rubbing his head against Castiel’s back.

“Love you,” gasped Castiel. His head was so full of affection and heat and want he wasn’t sure if the words came out. _It’s okay. He knows_. _No. That’s not enough. He can’t feel what I’m experiencing, not like I can feel him. He has to know, he deserves to know_. “Love you…so much…everything I’ve wanted…feels so amazing…Dean…oh, Dean…”

Awash in Dean’s emotions as well as his own, Castiel was barely aware when he climaxed again. He kept stroking until his ecstasy pushed into the painful and only then realized that he was spent, that Dean had stopped spurting and was keening against him. Panting as hard as he ever had while training on the hottest days, Castiel slumped limply against Dean, who made a cawing sound unlike any sound Castiel had previously heard him make. Dean’s chest lifted and fell rapidly, his cock slowly retracted into his body, pulling Castiel free of Dean’s foreskin with a filthy squelch. Castiel whimpered pathetically as his sensitive flesh was exposed to the comparatively cool air.

A wordless question came through their empathic link, and Castiel reached out with his disgusting hand, intended to pet along Dean’s cheek, but Dean interrupted him, snuffling at their combined come, licking at his fingers. Castiel giggled weakly as Dean’s tongue tickled at him.

“I’m fine, Dean,” said Castiel reassuringly, taking a guess at what Dean’s question was. “I’m better than fine – I’m happy, so incredibly happy. Did you…was that okay?” _Have you wanted that as long as I have? Have you dreamed of being with a human? Have you dreamed of being with me? I want to know everything, if only I could bring myself to ask._ Dean answered with silent agreement and a deep, content purr, loud in Castiel’s ear. The afterglow faded from Castiel’s body, leaving him exhausted, his eyes drooping shut, his breathing syncing with Dean’s. “Adore you, Dean...dreamed of being with you…dreamed of _you_ , only you…” Dean’s purr intensified, his content agreement grew, and Castiel fell into a deep, restful sleep, happier than he could ever remember being.

* * *

Landing on the clear hilltop, Dean took several running steps before he was able to arrest his momentum. Despite Dean’s light, dexterous foot fall, the breath whooshed from Castiel and it took him a moment to get his wind back. As soon as he did, he caught the emergency release on his harness, freed himself and threw himself aside. Relieved of Castiel’s weight, Dean flopped to his side and rolled onto his back, pale scales of his belly pearlescent in the early summer sunlight. He spread his wings out to the sides, deep green against the pale grass, the tip of his cock already emerging pink and glistening. Castiel moved quickly, pulling himself over the grass and climbing onto Dean’s belly. He didn’t need Dean’s anticipation and desire to speed him, it was only an additional spur to his own desperation. After several days at home, several nights of covertly pleasuring each other in the barn, Castiel felt increasingly guilty about disturbing the livestock and increasingly paranoid about the prospects of his family catching them. They’d agreed that, rather than take the chance, they’d seek seclusion.

Dean panted so quickly beneath him that Castiel had to tangle his hands in the harness to keep his balance. Splayed out beneath him, Dean was magnificent, beautiful in his vulnerability and in his arousal. The dragon’s neck was twisted at an awkward angle that enabled him to see Castiel and watch as Castiel stripped of his shirt and shorts and tossed the garments negligently aside, leaving his muscular body bare. The position left Dean exposed; should something happen, he’d scarce be able to move, much less take flight. Fortunately, the area was safe and deserted. They were under no threat, in no danger of attack or discovery.

Sliding back along the smooth scales, Castiel peppered kisses over Dean’s body as he went. The discovery that Dean’s belly was sensitive enough to feel them made Castiel absurdly happy, since they couldn’t kiss on the lips like a regular couple – or rather, they could, but dragon lips weren’t erogenous and dragon teeth weren’t particularly erotic and kissing Dean’s tongue, while fun, was sloppy. Dean liked his nose kissed, too, but they couldn’t reach right now. Castiel adored mapping out Dean’s body, discovering where the dragon was and wasn’t sensitive, learning how to trigger the delicious shiver that now quivered through his strong body, how to draw forth needy noises, how to make Dean ever more desperate for Castiel.

His hips hit wetness and Castiel groaned; Dean keened in reply, his lower body pressing up from the ground, causing Castiel to slide forward. Freeing one hand from the harness, Castiel twisted to look behind him. Dean’s cock rested heavy and full against his scales, foreskin drawn back to reveal the top few inches. As Castiel watched, the foreskin retracted further and a pearl of come slowly grew until it seeped onto Dean’s belly. Overwhelmed at how close he was to what he’d wanted for so long, Castiel pressed his forehead to Dean’s scales and tried to get his frantic breathing and racing heartbeat under control, his cock stiff and throbbing.

“Dean,” Castiel panted. “You’re sure?” Desire so thick that it slammed into Castiel, repeated _want, want, want_ in a pounding litany that matched the dull thud of Dean’s heartbeat, came by way of confirmation. Castiel shuddered and moaned, aware of how much he desired, how empty he felt. His mind was full of the dreams he now knew were mere imitations, teased by the memory of how it had felt when he’d used a mere finger. Dean was much, much larger than his finger.

A tentative touch traced over his side, Dean reaching out with his tail to caress Castiel’s abdomen, wrap around his chest, nudge him backwards, reassure him.

“Okay…okay,” said Castiel. Sliding back, he slotted Dean’s cock along his crack and rubbed against it, Dean’s hips rising slightly to meet him, Dean’s tail helping Castiel hold his position. “I just want to be sure…want you to want this…want me…” Castiel loved when Dean expressed a burst of incredulity, when he made it clear that he couldn’t fathom why Castiel would doubt Dean’s desires. It was profoundly reassuring. “I—” His voice shattered in a cry as the tip of Dean’s cock smeared over his hole. Castiel couldn’t wait any longer. Reaching back, he gently gripped Dean’s cock, stroked it a couple times just to feel it twitch against his palm, and pivoted his hips to line them up. The wet and tapered tip penetrated Castiel easily, stretching him open with a strange burn that intensified the further within him it went. Gasping, eyes wide, Castiel froze when he felt Dean twitch within him. It felt weird. Not bad – definitely not bad – but utterly alien. The rim ached where it was pulled taut. A stiff breeze dried Castiel’s eyes, forced out tears, and he squeezed them shut, shaking uncontrollably. Worry intruded on his thoughts and Dean wrapped his tail around Castiel more securely. The dragon trembled noticeably with the effort of restraining himself.

“It’s good,” Castiel managed. Hesitantly, he used his grip on the harness to pull himself a little forward, push himself back. It felt like an endless amount of Dean’s large length was within him, but moving he realized it couldn’t be more than a couple inches. They slid apart easily, slid together smoothly, early release amply smoothing the way. Castiel opened up a little further, his body accommodating better, taking more of Dean only to be forced to stop again when his muscles seized up and bore down against the intrusion. Dean let out a pained noise. “I’m sorry!” More tears leaked from his eyes. “Maybe…” Before he could continue, Dean’s hips pressed away from him, withdrawing Dean’s cock, and despite Dean’s burgeoning arousal, he projected a soothing sense that it was alright. “No, no, please don’t stop!” Dean froze. “Please – I need you, Dean – I’ve waited – give me a little time to get used to it, we can keep trying, please?” Forcing his eyes open, he saw Dean nod and they slid back together as far as they could, as meager as that was.

The minutes that followed were a painfully slow process of easing Dean into Castiel’s body incrementally. Each time he took more, Castiel tensed again as he was stretched further, and then they waited and rocked together gently until pleasure relaxed him, until he was loose enough that another half inch or inch would slide in. The delay drove them both crazy, left them both weak and shaking, but when one or the other tried to hasten things it inevitably set them back as Castiel involuntarily tightened again. The longer they went, the better it felt. Dean was incredibly hot inside him, thick, pressing against the sides of his channel, applying light friction and hard pressure to places that proved incredibly sensitive. Dean’s foreskin bunched around his hole, pushed back by how deeply he penetrated, but as full as Castiel was there were still inches left when he glanced over his shoulder, so they waited longer, tried for more, until they reached a point where the pleasure mounting within Castiel edged into pain.

“That’s all I can…” Castiel groaned, his hips rocking back involuntarily to drag his aching cock over Dean’s scales. Pleasure burst numbingly through his body and he spasmed and sprawled on Dean’s belly. “Amaz—” His hips jerked again, dragged Dean through him again, and he moaned. Dean cawed out that strange sound he only made when they made love and thrust up from the ground to sink deeply into Castiel. They paused like that for a moment, on the edge of a precipice, and then they moved as one, Dean rocking up from the ground, Castiel grinding down, small movements that felt _enormous_ and _fantastic_ inside Castiel. His cock, leaking, slid over Dean’s scales, and his grip on the harness and Dean’s tail wrapped around him ensured he kept his balance. Inundated with his own feelings and Dean’s, Castiel moved on instinct, rocking and undulating to meet Dean on every thrust, panting, Dean’s name on his lips over and over again.

The first burst of hot liquid within Castiel’s body nearly pushed him to climax; he cried out raggedly and went stiff as Dean continued to thrust, motion smoothed by copious come. Dean echoed Castiel’s cry with his own strange one, movements growing uneven and frantic. As Dean released, Castiel moved harder, faster, driving them together urgently. He didn’t try to speak, he focused on moving as sweat dampened his hair and beaded down his spine. He needed more and more of the feeling of Dean within him and around him, needed more and more of Dean’s cock buried within him, needed more and more of the come spurting deep within him so thickly that desperate strokes forced it out to pool on Dean’s scales, coating Castiel’s cock and driving him higher. The heat spread from his channel and dick until he skin tingled everywhere and his mind burned. Castiel’s body tensed and Dean keened with pleasure.

“Dean...I’m...”

Dean called again, a caw that ended in a strange hiss, and abruptly Castiel understood what he was hearing, why Dean made that sound, why he made it _now_.

“My name,” he gasped, “oh, _Dean_ , you’re saying my name, you’re _saying_ ‘Cas,’ that’s – that’s so—” Castiel broke off in a deep groan as the combination of physical pleasure and joy and Dean’s feeling crashed together and became more than he could bear. Rolling his hips desperately against Dean’s cock, against Dean’s stomach, Castiel came; he clung to his position and let Dean pound into him, unable to do more than _feel_. The continued stimulation held Castiel at the peak of his bliss until he wanted to beg Dean to stop but he couldn’t find the words. A second peak rocked Castiel, a third, his cock burning and spurting small after-bursts of come onto Dean’s slick belly. Castiel was hardly sensible by the time Dean went still, cock yet buried within him. Only Dean’s tail wrapped around him kept Castiel from sliding to the ground; Dean’s belly dripped with their release and all of Castiel’s muscles were lax with pleasure. Beneath him, Dean’s chest heaved and his emotions showed him as sated and elated and relaxed as Castiel was.

“I love you,” mumbled Castiel. Dean’s tail wrapped around him tightly, as close to a hug as Dean could manage. To Castiel’s surprise, Dean’s emotions shifted abruptly, mischievous and curious. The tail let him go and Castiel tried to get his numb fingers caught in the harness but he couldn’t; he tumbled the short distance to the loamy, grassy ground and rolled onto his back. Confused, Castiel got a hand under himself, rocking forward into a reclining position, trying to catch Dean’s eye.“Dean, wha—” The dragon was already in movement, getting his feet under him, rounding, bringing his head around so they were face to face. “Is everything o—”

A lick over Castiel’s stretched hole and softening cock interrupted him and took all coherent thought with it; Castiel gasped and collapsed back against the ground. A second lick focused on his ass, Dean’s broad tongue digging into Castiel to lap up the come that Dean had amply spilled. Castiel writhed against the ground as renewed waves of pleasure bowled him over, his cock starting to thicken again. To the accompaniment of Castiel’s increasingly vocal breaths, Dean licked Castiel clean of come and sweat, slicking his chest, ass, and cock with saliva. Through tear-blurred vision, Castiel could see Dean’s cock hanging heavy between his legs and dripping gobs of release to the ground. Desperation gave Castiel the strength to move, to grip at the grass and pull himself around. Dean was confused, but he kept licking, and by the time Castiel got into position Dean’s puzzlement had given way to intense desire; release splashed onto Castiel’s face and dripped into his mouth as he took a grip on Dean’s cock, pulled the tip to his mouth, and Dean broke off his attentions to Castiel to cry loudly into the still air as Castiel picked up a steady rhythm matching strokes of his hand with sucks and laps of his tongue. Panting smoking breaths against Castiel’s skin, Dean redoubled his efforts, working into Castiel’s body and against his cock.

Castiel’s mouth was full of the mild taste of Dean’s release, his nose full of the smell of scales and brimstone and crushed grass, his ears full of the sound of Dean’s breath, his head flooded with his own and Dean’s pleasure. The hotter Dean grew, the more urgently he worked at Castiel’s body, the more firmly Castiel stroked, a cycle that drove them both higher and higher until Castiel couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled his mouth from Dean’s cock barely in time to keep from choking on come as he seized up with his climax. Another burst of steaming release washed over his face and he curled to his side, chest heaving, wrapping his arms around his middle, suffused with pleasure that left him desperate for more touch even as the slightest brush on his skin drove him painfully wild. Dean shifted to the side and flopped to the ground and Castiel could feel his concern.

“So good,” Castiel managed to whisper, and reveled in the abatement of Dean’s concerns. Weakly, Castiel flopped to face him. Dean rested on his haunches, panting, head flush to the ground as he watched Castiel. Trying to move closer to him, all Castiel could manage was to twist around and groan. Dean’s mouth twisted into the barest imitation of smile, his happiness made Castiel grin, and the dragon rolled to his side, bringing them together back to back. Dopey, blissed out thoughts filled both their minds and neither made a further effort to move for a long time. Come dried flakey on Castiel’s skin, his pleasure ebbed to leave fatigue, and in the warmth of the early afternoon sun he dozed off.

The sun was descending dazzlingly over the western horizon when Castiel finally pulled himself around, climbed onto Dean’s neck and laid a kiss beneath his ear. “That was perfect, Dean.” Dean’s agreement was all he could hope for, as encompassing as Dean’s affection was and as heartening. Dean had wanted him all along too. “We’re both idiots. We could have been doing this all along.” Dean shrugged, the small movement almost enough to dislodge Castiel, and his whiskers twitched, his emotions...anticipatory? Castiel frowned, trying to interpret what Dean was telling him. A thread of arousal joined the rest, and Castiel laughed. “Ready to go again?” Dean nodded empathically.

Castiel could hardly have said how, within minutes, he was on his back on the ground, Dean hunched over him and thrusting deep, only fingers dug into the sod to keep Castiel from sliding from the strength of Dean’s hips.

It felt so good he didn’t care how he’d gotten there, couldn’t spare a thought of all the tribulations and delays that had kept them from this moment for years. All that mattered was that they were together now, that they would be together from then on.

Castiel screamed Dean’s name into the dusk when he came again and Dean cawed _Cas_ as he shook and released. They didn’t even try to clean up afterwards; they curled together in the warm night air and fell asleep as one. Castiel’s sleep was untroubled by dreams. They were living their dreams; reality couldn’t touch them until they returned to duty.

* * *

The remaining three weeks of Castiel’s leave passed in a whirlwind of time spent with his loved ones. He and Dean stole off to make love as they could within the bounds of politeness, but they had to be more gentle with Castiel’s body after that first day. When they’d woken the following morning Castiel had been so weak and achy that he’d struggled to stay in the harness for even the duration of the short trip home. Before they’d consummated their relationship, Castiel would have assumed he’d be disappointed that they couldn’t join every day, and thus he was surprised to find he didn’t mind. Sex was fantastic, but being together was too, and the natural way Dean fit in with Castiel’s family was the most precious of all, and the most limited. They had a lifetime to make love, but only days before they’d be separated from Castiel’s family for months or years.

With a week left, Anna announced with a shy smile and bright pink cheeks that Hannah and Jo were coming to stay for a few days, so Dean and Castiel relinquished the barn to their friends. Instead, they slept under the stars near the house, and when a midnight clatter of wood on wood woke Castiel to the sight of Anna sneaking out of the house to visit the barn, Castiel smiled at his sister’s happiness and said nothing of it the next morning when both women were pink and excited and unable to meet his eyes.

Fear niggled at the edges of Castiel’s thoughts as their last day approached. Soon, they’d be officially in the Riders. After minimal additional trainings they’d be on the front lines in the war against the rogue dragons. They’d see combat, they’d potentially take lives or be hurt or even be killed. He might never see home again, or he might return alone. Both sounded horrid. Yet, as if sensing his thoughts, whenever Castiel started to feel low Dean was there, nuzzling at him, reassuring him. Anna’s looks his way became increasingly knowing, and after dinner on his last night she asked to speak with him, only for them to meander the farmlands in silence as the moon rose high and bright in the sky.

“You and Hannah?” he finally, hesitantly broke the silence.

She nodded. “We’ve been writing to each other regularly past year, since you were hurt. We’ve not much had time in person, but what does that matter? I’m sure. I think she’s sure, too. She’s going to tell mom and dad tomorrow morning and we’ll keep writing. If...no. We’ll be married next time she takes leave. We will be.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Castiel, aglow with happiness for her sake. “She’s one of my best friends and I’m glad you two make each other happy.”

There was another long silence broken only when Anna tentatively asked, “you and Dean?” Castiel flushed, glad of the dark to hide his embarrassment.

“What about us?” he asked, hoping to obfuscate the truth behind some innocuous half-truth.

“You’re in love?” she replied, as unsure as he.

“You knew that.” He was proud that he didn’t stammer.

“I knew you were in love as friends,” she agreed. “It’s more than that, though, isn’t it?” He bit his lip against the answer. His sister had always been on his side, but... “Come on, Cassie, you can’t think I’d...” She fumbled for the right word, gave up, and started again. “If you and Dean make each other happy, of course I wish you joy.”

“Truly?” he whispered. She snorted and he was sure she rolled her eyes, though the dark obscured it. “Oh, Anna, I love him so much. When we’re together...I mean...I always...I wish he could communicate more clearly with you all so you could see, he’s everything kind and generous and loyal and brave. He takes care of me. I just wish I felt I did half as much for him as he does for me.” She laughed. “What?”

“Cassie, none of us can speak dragon but we’d have to be monumentally unobservant not to have noticed how he feels about you, and how attentive you are to him,” she said. “You’re constantly looking out for him, considering his needs, accommodating him – and you think that doesn’t count as _doing things for him_? You take care of him, too. It’s sickeningly adorable to watch. Neither of you have noticed that Gabe pretends to gag whenever you start making heart-eyes at each other.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she laughed again, put a hand on his and paced the carpet.

“You know we’re...I mean...it’s not just...” he floundered.

“Ugh, stop,” she laughed again. “I don’t need all the gruesome details. Yes, I know. I came to check on you the first night and no, I didn’t walk in on you but I heard _plenty_.”

“I’m sorry!” he said, mortified.

“Don’t be.” The moon highlighted her gentle, sweet smile, sparkled dark in her eyes. “You sounded happy – you both did. There’s nothing to apologize for – though I’ve given the barn a wide berth each night since!” They laughed together and Castiel felt something ease in his chest that he hadn’t realized was tense. Keeping his secret had felt essential and he hadn’t even realized that it was weighing on him. While he doubted his parents would be as understanding of him being intimate with a dragon, he didn’t need _everyone_ to accept it. It was enough that Anna knew and it didn’t change her opinion of him and Dean, it was enough that they had at least one person they could be completely open with.

They continued in silence as they looped back towards the house. They were nearly there, the warm glow through the windows visible as a dusky gold, when Anna stopped. “Please be careful out there, Cassie. We hear things...I want you to come home. I want all four of you to come home again.”

“We will,” Castiel promised, though he knew it was hollow. He had no way of knowing what the future held. Still, he had to offer himself the reassurance as much as he had to offer it to her. He had to believe that he and Dean, and Hannah and Jo, and his other classmates, would weather the trials to come. “Thank you, Anna.”

“For what?”

“Everything.” So much more than he could ever put into words.

“I love you,” she whispered. “You’re the best big brother I could ever ask for.”

He brushed a sweet, gentle kiss over her forehead and accompanied her to the house before returning to join Dean in the unused field they slept in. Though Anna’s acceptance was wonderful, they were leaving the next day and it was impossible not to contemplate the worst. Listlessly ordering the carpet to roll, he crawled into Dean’s embrace, wrapped himself around Dean’s neck and tried not to cry. Dean, half-asleep, nuzzled into him comfortingly and gave his cheek a sloppy lick, but the dragon’s thoughts were sad as well.

“At least we’ll be together,” Castiel whispered, voice breaking. “At least neither of us will ever be alone again.” _Did I really think I might come home alone? That will never happen. If he dies, I’ll die. There’s no alternative. I can’t lose Dean_.

 _I can’t lose Cas_.

Lifting his head, Castiel stared wide-eyed at the dragon, but Dean remained mostly gone, eyes closed, breathing even.

_Maybe it was my imagination._

It didn’t matter. Either way, Castiel knew it was the truth. They were bound, not just by their bond as rider and dragon, not just by the empathic link, not just by their love. Together, they were more than either was alone, and whatever was to come, they’d face it and succeed or fall as one. It was a strange thing to find comfort in, and yet Castiel did, and with the knowledge that whatever was to come, he’d face it with Dean, Castiel drifted off, ready to face their first day as Dragon Riders of the kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more-or-less the end of this story. I'll be writing a short epilogue which I hope to post tomorrow, and maybe at some point in the distant future I'll write a sequel - I have a few ideas - but it won't be any time soon. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bears pretty much no resemblance to what I was thinking of writing when, yesterday, I indicated I was going to write an epilogue.
> 
> I have no idea what happened but I decided to just go with it. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

_I don’t belong here. But this is what they wanted for me. I’ll do my best for their sakes. I’ll try..._

Curiosity interrupted Dean’s troubled thoughts as the young humans flew onto the parade ground, carpets hovering feet in the air. They smelled male and female, excited and afraid and intrigued and nervous. Emotions buzzed like a swarm of insects around Dean as the other dragons around him reacted to the spectacle. They’d all been eagerly awaiting this day. Dean had been dreading it.

_Who would want me? Maybe someone will now, when they don’t know me, but if they learn how I failed..._

A smell struck Dean’s nose, sweet and tangy, tickling his senses. With the humans clumped together it was difficult to figure out which he was scenting, though he tried. The elder dragons who had helped train them had explained that there were various signs that a human would be a compatible rider – many minor hints, such as a pleasant aroma – but the true test would be the bond. The elders swore he’d be able to sense it immediately, but he’d never felt a connection like that with any person. Dean’s gaze swept over the line of people, simultaneously seeing the vibrant colors of hot and cold playing over their bodies and the washed out colors that apparently was what humans saw vividly all the time. Before he could isolate which human smelled so nice, the dragons were ordered to their demonstration. Dean did the formations by rote, not bothering to grandstand as the others did. Nothing was going to come of today.

Watching the humans demonstrate their abilities gave Dean the opportunity to isolate which one drew him. As they scattered and came together in complex patterns, a sense of _right_ hit Dean like a hard landing on stone, jolting his entire body. A boy, eyes glowing with hot blue, body coruscating in shades of red and yellow and green, so hot and alive, dove down and skimmed the ground only to soar fearlessly back into the sky. Without any clue how he could tell, Dean knew the man and he would connect.

He wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

The humans finished their display, the instructors explained that they should get to know each other, and Dean held back uncertainly. Everyone said connecting with a rider was fantastic, like no other feeling in the world, but the prospect of losing his privacy, of someone being able to sense his thoughts, of being around a person from whom he couldn’t hide, frightened Dean. They’d know when he was sad or angry or lonely, know when he was being pathetic or cowardly or weak.

But the pull drawing him towards the stranger was powerful and undeniable.

The word was given that they were free to mingle and Dean started towards him – Castiel, so Uriel named him – but Gordon cut him off, barreling across the field to confront the boy. Dean watched hopefully for a moment, optimistic that Castiel would rebuke the jerk, but instead Castiel greeted Gordon warmly and enthusiastically.

Dean sighed. He felt nothing towards any of the other people present. What was the point? The only human he wanted to meet didn’t have the least interest in him.

Just as he’d expected.

* * *

Every day, Dean’s training broke for lunch and he returned to his stall to eat alone.

Almost every day, he walked down the halls of the stable accompanied by a wonderful sweet smell, a sense of unfulfilled connection, and the sound of crying. Castiel was unhappy and there was nothing Dean could do because Castiel wasn’t his rider.

Every day, that tore Dean up inside.

It was Gordon’s responsibility to help Castiel, just as it was Castiel’s responsibility to take care of Gordon. From the first days of training, it was drilled into every dragon’s heads that while there were multiple riders with whom they might be compatible, once a dragon and rider were bonded it was wrong for another dragon to interact with that rider. It was drilled into the dragon’s heads that while their humans were strong and brave and capable, they were also vulnerable, especially physically, in comparison to dragons. All their lives, they were isolated from others, unused to the constant communication that all dragons were accustomed to exchanging with each other. This was a boon for pairing riders with people but the dragon could never take it for granted. Apparently, humans struggled to make deep connections with even one dragon, since they weren’t adapted for empathic bonds as dragons were. If another dragon got involved with a bonded rider it muddled things up. Dean didn’t want to do anything to hurt Castiel, didn’t want to cause him confusion, didn’t want to complicate his relationship with Gordon. Thus, as difficult it was, every day Dean stayed away and didn’t offer the comfort he longed to give.

_It’s for the better._

Though he knew it was foolish, Dean had watched Castiel in the months since the pairing ceremony. The incomplete connection drew Dean so strongly that he couldn’t resist. The human was amazing: hard-working, studious, strong enough that he never resorted to using his carpet to navigate the complex, agile, and completely fearless even at high altitudes. In comparison, Gordon seemed bumbling to Dean’s eye, so focused on his strength and speed that he didn’t care when his execution was sloppy, so convinced he already knew all that he needed to that he didn’t bother trying to improve himself.

_Castiel deserves better than Gordon, and he definitely deserves better than me._

No amount of justification cured the tightness in Dean’s chest when he knew that Castiel was upset. No amount of justification stopped him from feeling that Castiel’s pain _was_ his problem, that he should intervene.

Dean couldn’t have said what was different that day. The sound of crying was perhaps a little louder. The irresistible smell that Dean led to the tack room instead of Castiel’s bedroom, and it was still none of Dean’s business.

He couldn’t leave it alone, though. Gordon should be there, should comfort Castiel, but Dean wasn’t surprised he wasn’t. Gordon was a selfish asshole.

 _I may not be the dragon that a rider like Castiel deserves, but maybe I can help him. Maybe I can do_ something _useful._

Dean’s steps led him to the tack room without his conscious direction. Castiel lay slumped over a pile of blankets, face hidden, shoulders shaking, dark hair disheveled, white shirt marked by sweat stains left by the exertion of his morning training. The usually brilliant, swirling colors as heat ebbed and flowed in Castiel’s body seemed more dull than usual.

_A low keening drew Dean’s attention and he followed the sound to find Sammy curled in a tight ball, face hidden beneath his wing, tail tucked under him. Sam had grown so much the past few years but, frightened and upset, he looked small and defenseless. His brown scales shimmered iridescent with the heat emanating from within him. Worried, Dean approached, nudged him, felt his brother’s pain and embarrassment._

_*What’s the matter?*_

_*Nothin’.*_

_*Those jerks were bullying you again, weren’t they?* Anger surged in Dean. *I’ll stop them, I’ll make them regret ever coming near you, I’ll—*_

_*No, Dean! Please don’t!*_

_*Why not? They deserve it.*_

_*It won’t help. I don’t need you to fight for me.*_

_As difficult as it was to leave his brother vulnerable, Dean took a deep breath to calm himself and let his irritation go. *Then what do you need?*_

_*Please, stay with me...*_

_Moved, Dean curled his larger body around his baby brother, encircled him protectively, and found his anger dissipating in the face of the comfort that Sam took in his presence._

_*I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Sammy.*_

_*I know you won’t, Dean.*_

Pain and helplessness tore at Dean.

 _I should intervene…but maybe it doesn’t have to be the same this time. Maybe I don’t have to fail Castiel like I failed Sam_. _If I do nothing, if I don’t even try, he’ll continue to suffer alone._

Dean was acutely aware of how much it hurt to suffer alone. He couldn’t leave anyone to that if he could help it, not even a stranger, and Castiel wasn’t exactly a stranger. _He’s not a friend, either. He’s never met me, never noticed me. I shouldn’t interfere._ Pushing away his conflicted feelings, Dean nuzzled at Castiel’s elbow and felt a jolt like electricity through his body. Castiel jerked his head up and turned his tear-streaked face towards Dean, and he wondered if Castiel had finally felt the connection between them.

 _Are you alright?_ He longed to ask. _How can I help you?_

_Maybe it’ll be enough for me to be here. I can try. I have to try._

“...you’re...um...was it Dean?”

Dean nodded, pleased that Castiel remembered his name, heartened that maybe he’d done the right thing after all by intervening.

_Maybe, in some small way, I can be enough for even one person._

* * *

“Dean, it’s like you’re not even trying!” snapped the Commandant angrily. Dean shrugged his front shoulders indifferently.

 _That’s because I’m not even trying_.

“If you are not going to take the selection process seriously, you’ll be removed from the school.”

_Why should I bother with the selection process? My rider is already at the school, I know who he is, but he doesn’t want me and I have to accept that._

“You know how this goes. One year. If you aren’t selected in one full year, you’ll have to go home. You’ve only got one more chance for selection left.”

_But if I don’t at least pretend to care about finding a rider, they’ll send me away and I won’t be able to help Castiel any longer._

“Singer, am I making any impression on him at all?” Zachariah asked, exasperated.

_Maybe that would be for the better. Castiel is with Gordon. He might like me and enjoy my company but he doesn’t need me._

Singer snorted and Zachariah sighed.

*Boy, are you going to pretend to care? You think this is what your ma and pa wanted?* Singer paired the words with frustration and disappointment. A year ago, that would have cut Dean to the quick, would have driven him to redouble his efforts, would have spurred him to find any rider who would take him rather than risk disappointing the memory of his family.

That was before he’d met Castiel.

He shrugged again. *If I’m not picked, I can hunt Azazel.*

*You idjit, we talked about this. If you hunt Azazel, he’ll kill you.*

_Good._

_*_ It’s not my fault that none of the riders are right,* Dean replied, knowing that Singer was sensitive enough that he’d sense that Dean was holding something back. It didn’t matter. Even had Singer not trained Castiel, there was no way that Dean could tell him the truth. *I’ll try.*

“Well?” insisted Zachariah. “Singer, is he going to try?”

Agreement that Zachariah could presumably sense filled the air, and Dean repressed a sigh. He’d bought at least one more reprieve before they sent him away.

He’d have that much more time with Castiel.

* * *

Dean’s heart beat out panic as Castiel’s hand passed over the base of his tail again. It felt so damn good, made Dean think so many impossible things about his friend. ­ _Just my friend, nothing more, not my rider, not my companion, not my anything_. He should jerk away, try to pretend he didn’t love the way it felt, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Arousal shot heat through his mind and he was embarrassed, sure that Castiel could feel his every emotion.

 _What does he think he’s doing? Why is he doing it? I wish I knew what he was thinking_. _I wish I could tell him not to stop._

Dean pushed the thought away, the moment passed, and Castiel returned to practicing setting up the harness.

The next evening, they met up again, Castiel’s cheeks bright with heat, his eyes aglow with it, and the distinct smell of human release lingering in the air.

No amount of trying not to think about what that might mean could keep the beautiful human out of Dean’s dreams that night; he woke panting and far too hot, floor of his stable stained with a pool of his release.

_I need to stop thinking of him like this. It can never be._

_It’ll be better for both of us when Zachariah sends me away._

* * *

Shock rocked him and he blinked slowly at the Commandant.

“Well, Dean? Are you interested in bonding with Castiel?” Zachariah’s voice was thick with doubt., the usual cool morass of colors that were uniquely the Commandant’s sickly to Dean’s eyes. His expression slipped into shock when Dean nodded enthusiastically. “Really?”

 _Oh, Maker, yes, last night and this morning weren’t a mistake. I didn’t misunderstand_. This is what I want _, Castiel said, and he meant it, he really meant it. He must have been planning this. Why didn’t he say anything? Does it matter? I need him. Am I allowed to feel that way? Maybe I’m finally allowed to care for him, maybe he’ll finally be free of Gordon. I won’t bond anyone else. If I can’t be with him, I’ll do what I should have done all along, go after Azazel instead of coming to the Citadel._

“Very well. I’ll have a talk with Gordon, and you and Castiel should be able to bond tomorrow. However, if I ever have cause to think you made this choice simply to avoid being sent home...” Zachariah trailed off ominously but Dean ignored the vague threat. Zachariah had no idea what he was talking about.

The Commandant left and Dean paced his stall nervously, certain that once things were settled Castiel would come to see him. They could curl up again as they had that morning and lay together and the loneliness that ate through him so often would finally be held at bay. _I have Castiel. I never have to be alone again._

_Unless something happens to him. Humans are so small, so breakable. I can’t let him get hurt. I have to take care of him. He’s already been hurt, but he seems less sad than he used to be. And he wants to be with me._

_What if he wants to be with me the way I want to be with him?_

_He probably doesn’t._

_But now I’ll get the chance to find out._

His thoughts went round and round, morning warmed and brightened into afternoon, and he waited impatiently, sick with anticipation.

_DEAN!_

The thought struck him like a blow from nowhere, screamed into his mind and tore his circling doubts to shreds. A thought suggested that there was no way that Castiel could call to him, even if they had a bond, but it was impossible to credit in the face of the urgency and terror he _felt_ digging into his brain and crackling through his very bones. He’d felt like that once before, when Sammy had called to him as Azazel attacked.

He hadn’t been in time then, and Sammy had died.

Dean would never make that mistake again.

Castiel needed him.

Slamming the door of his stall open, he barreled into the hall, letting his instincts draw him down the hallways, taking a turn so quickly he slammed into a wall.

_Castiel – Castiel – I’m coming, Maker, I’m coming as fast I can – I just found out I get to have you, I’m not going to lose you now, please be alright, please don’t be – don’t be – don’t be..._

Another turn, and Dean took in the scene in an instant: Castiel, his body swirling cool tones, the tangy smell of his blood sickeningly thick in the air; Gordon, almost incandescently hot and suffused with rage, his teeth dripping with red that swirled the same cooling colors as Castiel’s body; the hallway deserted, not another person or dragon there to prevent or forestall the inevitable as Gordon moved in for the kill. Fury wiped every thought from Dean’s mind and he roared, the mighty sound echoing through the building, and charged. Gordon barely rounded to meet him before Dean was on him. The catharsis of battle kept Dean from thinking. All he had time for was the fight, lunging and dodging and weaving for an opening. All he had time for was the all-consuming thought that whatever happened, Gordon had to be kept away from Castiel. Gordon was larger and stronger than he, but Dean was faster, and the knowledge of Castiel’s suffering spurred him on.

_Failed you – I failed you – I fail everyone I want to protect – I can’t beat Azazel but I can beat Gordon, I know I can – don’t die, please don’t die, I need you, I need you, I need you..._

“Dean...”

Dean shrieked in anger, Castiel’s voice reaching him faintly, and threw himself into Gordon as hard as he could. Afterwards, he could never say how he ended up atop the larger dragon, his teeth sunk into Gordon’s throat. Words reached him from the humans who had at some point arrived, arms held out to try to calm him, but he couldn’t hear them over the sound of his own anger and Gordon’s distress and fury.

*Dean, _stop_.* Singer’s curt voice won through the cacophony and Dean loosed his bite reluctantly. Gordon sputtered on blood and fell back limp. Sick satisfaction filled Dean’s thoughts. _I hope he dies. He hurt Castiel. No one gets to hurt Castiel_. *I know, Dean. He hurt your rider. No one will blame you. But it’s over now.*

 _Yes. Gordon hurt my rider..._ my _rider...my Castiel...Cas…oh no, is he...? No, no, no, no, no…_

Rounding, Dean found Castiel in an instant, nausea wracking him as he saw how cold his colors had grown, saw him slumped against the floor in a pool of chill blood. Carefully, Dean settled to the ground and stretched his head towards Castiel, nudged him as gently as he could. Castiel lay so still Dean was terrified, but the moment they touched Castiel tensed and screamed in pain and Dean felt overwhelmingly guilty.

_What can I do, how can I help, how can I fix it, don’t die, don’t die, please don’t leave me, I can’t be alone again, Castiel, I can’t fail again, don’t go..._

“Dean...” Castiel reached for him, fingers grasping weakly at his eyebrow, tugging on his whiskers. _Please be alright, tell me how to help you, I should have been here sooner, I should have stopped Gordon, I should have rescued you ages ago…_ “Thank you, Dean...”

_Why do I fail everyone I love?_

* * *

“Come on, Dean, he’s waiting for you!”

 _Castiel’s alright, and he wants to see me_.

It seemed impossible, but Hannah’s words were undeniable. Joy he didn’t deserve coursed through him and Dean bolted towards Castiel’s room, knocked on the window. The smell of sickness lay thick in the air, but Castiel was alert, if weak, and wanted to see him. It was a dream come true.

“Did Commandant Zachariah speak to you? And are you...? I mean, are we...do you want to?”

Dean could hardly believe it. _Castiel_ was worried that _Dean_ wouldn’t want to be bonded. If the situation wasn’t so critical he’d have laughed in shock. The distressed look on Castiel’s face killed his humor, though. Comforting him, keeping him safe and warm until he healed, was more important than giving voice to Dean’s shock that Castiel could possibly think that he was inadequate in anyway. When Dean had given him every reassurance he could think of, Castiel pulled close to him, body warm and comforting against Dean’s face.

“I love you, too,” Castiel breathed into his ear. Dean froze, breath caught in his throat. He could hardly believe it. “Please stay with me.”

_Always, Cas._

_Always._

* * *

Dozing, Dean was only vaguely aware of Castiel returning for the evening. The past year, the past weeks, had been the best of Dean’s life. Castiel’s family had welcomed Dean so warmly, and he and Castiel had finally reached an understanding. He’d wanted Castiel so long but he’d never dared hope that Castiel wanted him back. Cas did and it was _glorious_. For once, everything Dean had lost didn’t loom so large. Revenge didn’t seem so important. He and Castiel were together, _truly_ together, and Dean wouldn’t risk that for the world. He’d never take the chance of leaving Castiel alone as Dean had been left alone.

It was impossible to know what the next few days and weeks would bring. A vision flickered in his mind of Castiel, small and broken after Gordon’s attack. When they went to war they’d face other dragons, larger and crueler than Gordon, they’d face hunger and sickness, the perils of the mountains, hardships of all sorts.

At least they’d face them together.

Castiel crawled over him, snuggled close, and Dean licked him, tasting the tang of his skin.

_Tomorrow everything changes. Anything could happen. What if..._

“At least we’ll be together,” murmured Castiel affectionately. “At least neither of us will ever be alone again.”

_Sometimes it’s like you can read my mind. How do you do that? How did I live without you? I never thought I’d love anyone again._

_I’ve lost everything before, and I can lose everything again, except you._

_I can’t lose Cas._

An echoing thought answered, _if he dies, I’ll die. I can’t lose Dean_.

As depressing as the prospect was, Dean took heart from it. Supposedly impossible, it was only the second time he’d sensed Castiel’s thoughts, and Dean was as certain of what he heard this time was he was positive that he’d heard Castiel call for help the day that Gordon attacked him. All dragons and riders shared a bond, but he’d heard of none like theirs.

Because of Castiel, Dean wasn’t alone anymore. He couldn’t think of anything more important than that.

_In this life or after, we’ll be together._

_I wish he could hear me say_ I love you.

_It’s alright. He knows. I know he knows. Sleep well, my beautiful Castiel. No matter what comes, I’ll be here to keep you safe._

_I won’t fail. I won’t._

_I’ll do whatever I must, be whatever I must, to be the dragon that you need – to be your Dean._

A sense of peace suffused Dean as Castiel fell asleep, and Dean joined him in slumber, ready to face any nightmare so long as he could sleep curled up with the human of his dreams.

_My Castiel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few people asked me for Dean's PoV, so I took a stab at it. I once vowed to myself that I'd never write a "here's the same story from the other PoV!" thing unless I really thought the second PoV had a lot to contribute that wasn't in the original story...I have no idea if that met this requirement but whatever, here it is, and I hope you all enjoyed a glimpse of some of the other end of things.
> 
> This story is *finished*. I could conceive of writing a sequel (...or multiple sequels...) at some point in the future, but by "the future" I'm talking a minimum of six months from now, and probably longer. I've got a lot of WIP that I am determined to finish before I play with too much new stuff. (or so I keep saying, sigh).
> 
> For my regular readers: don't expect any new updates for a couple weeks, as I will be putting my head down now and focusing on my Rare Pair Big Bang (which, reminder, is an Explicit Dean/Jimmy/Castiel Baseball AU, that will be around 100,000 words long and will be released, along with art, on May 15th, so be on the look out!) Once that's done my plan is to finish the sequel to SextersAnon.com and then focus on Abnormal until it's done, then probably Halflings, and then probably What Do I Stand For. I'll likely write a few more Writing Prompt Wednesday stories in there but I can't keep having them grow into 40,000 word long fics, lol! :)
> 
> As always, for the most up-to-date information on what I'm doing with my writing, or if you just want to get to be friends, follow me on my Tumblr - [unforth-ninawaters](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone! :)


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